A Thief's Past
by maeflower17
Summary: Remel is a new thief with a frightening past. She tries to put it all behind her, safe within the confines of her new Thieve's Guild family. But what happens when her past comes back to find her? (Rated T for mild reference to sexual themes and violence)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my very first fic ever, please go easy on me. This chapter might seem a little dull but it's establishing character relationships and what's going on! Please leave comments if you like it or don't and what I could do differently. Also I don't own anything but the character Remel :)**

 _Remel blinked, a hand on her head, and looked around, taking in the small sandy island she lay on, the sea lapping gently at the shore, and the volcano in the distance. She looked down at herself; she wore a tattered shirt that left her arms bare, filthy brown breeches, and old boots. Checked her pockets: empty._

 _Remel groaned, wondering how the divines she ended up in this situation._

 _With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet and cast around the tiny island, looking for anything she could use. A number of familiar spiky grasses popped up through the ash, and she gathered a few of the seed pods. Maybe she could eat them? Or sell them, when she got to a city. If she got to a city._

 _There was nothing for it. She was going to have to swim._

 _The air was brisk, but warm, although Remel knew it would feel cold as soon as she was wet. But she took a deep breath and plunged into the chilly water._

Remel jerked upward with a gasp, hands tangled in the soft blanket around her. Above her was the round damp dome of the cistern; beside her, the trunk which held all her earthly belongings. The soft sound of voices echoed around the large open space, and Remel laid back with a huff, pushing away the dream that seemed harmless, but was so much worse because it was a memory.

After taking a short moment to collect herself, she rose and dressed, pulling the worn, too-big Guild jacket over a plain shirt, and donning soft breeches with a multitude of pockets. She left her feet bare; she loved to feel the ground beneath her, and went barefoot whenever possible. Her space was out in the open and afforded no privacy, but she didn't really mind—none of them did. They were family, after all.

With a soft sigh, she followed the sound of voices over to the kitchen area and settled at the table beside Rune. Cynric and Vipir sat across from them, whispering about some bold new job they wanted to undertake. She wondered where Niruin, her fellow Bosmer, had gotten off to, then hoped he was on a job. A simple, lucrative job.

"Bad dreams again?" Rune inquired softly, and Remel nodded.

"Not too bad, today. Just...memories."

"You're safe now," he assured her, and bumped his shoulder against hers.

She smiled. A month ago, even that little bit of contact would have caused her to close up, but she was better now. Now, it was a comfort, and Rune knew it.

Remel grabbed breakfast from the center of the table: a green apple, a slice of cheese, and a small chunk of bread. "I should go on a job today," she commented at the meager food, and Rune nodded.

"The pantry is certainly running low. I heard Delvin grumbling about gnomes last night. Do you want company?"

"Sure." She smiled at him, then finished her cheese and rose. "I'll go check with Delvin if there's anything nearby. Be back in a few."

Delvin was seated in the Ragged Flagon, drinking, as per usual, despite the fact that it couldn't have been later than nine in the morning. Remel felt a rush of sympathy for the older man; his superstitions, silly as they seemed to most, kept him up at night.

"Morning, Rem," he mumbled when she approached, and she perched on the chair across from him.

"How are you, Delvin? Need anything? How is your stomach feeling today?"

He chuckled and took another swig of ale. "I feel like Oblivion, as usual, child. Stuck under the weight of this damn curse, the only solution drinking myself to death. But you don't need to trouble yourself over me."

Remel sighed at the old man's pessimism. "I'll bring you some more sleeping droughts later, if I can get Elgrim to part with his last few swamp fungi."

"Ach, don't bother, girlie. Can't stand the taste of those potions anyway, and you need to save up your gold. Plus mead does the same thing."

"It does not, and you know it," Remel said firmly. "Besides, you're family, Delvin. I'll never regret spending gold on family."

He grumbled under his breath for a moment. Then: "Did you come out here to lecture me, or what?"

Remel sighed and sat back. "Rune and I were hoping for a job. Do you have anything nearby?"

He set down his bottle and rifled through a number of different pockets, finally pulling out a folded, wrinkled piece of paper. "Here. I was saving it for you. Sent Thrynn all the way to Markarth so you wouldn't have to."

Remel felt a rush of relief and gratitude, and took the paper, then stood to embrace the old codger. "Thank you. We'll be back before sundown."

She hurried back to the cistern and found Rune at his bed, pulling on boots. "Here." She placed the letter in his hand. "What poor soul are we robbing today?"

Rune took the letter and scanned it quickly. "Balimund. Just a numbers job. Should be simple; you don't even need me."

Remel caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, and Rune blushed. "Well, uh—sorry. You do need me. But, y'know, usually, you wouldn't—"

"Shhh," Remel advised, and he acquiesced. Remel's illiteracy was a well-known fact, but still, most found it a bit awkward to address. In Skyrim, it was rare to find anyone who couldn't read. But Remel hadn't been raised in Skyrim, nor had she had anything resembling a "normal" childhood.

"I'll distract," she offered, and Rune nodded. "We should be done in no time. Then I need to stop by Elgrim's."

Rune frowned. "You shouldn't indulge him." He was talking about Delvin, of course.

"You shouldn't let him suffer so much," she retorted, temper flaring, and Rune wisely dropped the subject.

An hour later, Remel sat in the warmth on the edge of Balimund's forge, watching as he showed her how to sharpen the edge of her steel dagger. She had left behind her Guild jacket in favor of a sky-blue dress, one which contrasted prettily with her light brown skin and raven-black hair. She had tied a strip of matching fabric around her head to keep her hair back, revealing the tips of her pointed ears. At the tender age of seventeen—young for a human, let alone a bosmer—Remel was a favorite among Riften's citizens. Of course, they thought she was just a lost young girl, learning alchemy and trying to make her way in the world, not a member of the Thieve's Guild. Her wide, guileless green eyes and heart-shaped face immediately excused her of suspicion, and she—and the Guild—took full advantage of that fact.

"That way, the blade is all smooth and regular, not jagged or uneven," Balimund finished, holding up the dagger, Remel's sole weapon, and one she could barely use, at that. She kept it on her mostly for alchemy and cooking.

"Thank you," Remel said with a soft smile. "It was getting so dull. I suppose that's because it isn't made for cutting cheese and apples."

"On the contrary," the friendly young blacksmith grinned. "That's precisely what little stickers like this are made for. I'm glad it's seeing any use at all."

Remel nodded and took the knife, tucking it in her belt. As she stepped away from the warmth of the forge, she let out an involuntary shiver. For a girl born and bred in Solstheim in the shadow of an active volcano, the cold of Skyrim—even now, in early fall, when the days were still long—she found the chill difficult to bear.

Balimund saw the movement and frowned. "Don't you have anything warmer, little elf?"

Remel shrugged. "I arrived here in late spring. I haven't needed anything more. I suppose...well, I should start saving for winter clothes, shouldn't I?" She tugged at the coin purse at her belt and frowned. It was depressingly light. She'd be surprised if she had a hundred gold to her name. "Do you sell raw furs? Perhaps I could make one. Or ask Grelka..."

"No need." Balimund reached under his workbench and pulled out a heavy gray cloak. "With all the wolves around here, I have a surplus of furs, and nothing much to do with them. Here." He handed her the cloak.

Remel reached again for her coin purse, but Balimund shook his head. "Don't you dare, little elf. I won't have you freezing to death on my conscience."

Remel felt her cheeks flush and took the cloak gratefully, swinging it around her shoulders and clasping it at the throat. It was big on her petite form, dragging a bit on the ground, and enveloping her like a tent. A large hood lay down her back; she pulled it up and disappeared within its folds.

"How do I look?" She spun around and giggled from the darkness under the hood. "It's far too big. I can't see a thing."

When she pushed the hood back, Balimund was smiling. "It's perfect. You can use it as a blanket if you need. Now, go on. I'm sure you have ingredients to harvest and potions to make."

Remel gushed her thanks and then hurried away, headed for the city gates. She did have ingredients to harvest, and hopefully trade with Elgrim. More importantly, she had to meet with Rune and make sure he had finished the job.

Using a basket borrowed from Marise, Remel made her slow way down to the lake, clipping flowers, digging roots, and snapping up bees and butterflies as she went. When she finally reached her meeting point with Rune she had a full basket and he was waiting impatiently.

"Sorry," she sighed before he could speak. "I got a bit caught up. How did it go?"

"Good." He grinned. "In and out the back door and no one is the wiser." He looked skeptically at her cloak. "What about you?"

Remel flushed. "He took pity on me," she said by way of excuse, and Rune shrugged.

"Well, good. That's one less thing for you to worry about. Are you off to see Elgrim?"

"Yes. Hopefully he'll be willing to make a trade. I'll find you in the Cistern after." Rune nodded his agreement and faded back into the shadows. Remel lost sight of him in moments.

Remel turned back toward the city, this time stooping underneath the docks and heading toward the canal-side buildings. Rune's words stuck with her; _one less thing for you to worry about._ It was a kind sentiment, and nothing new; ever since she had arrived, sick, exhausted, and traumatized from what had happened to her, every guild member had done nothing but look out for her. And she was so grateful, for without them she would no doubt have been lost. But she couldn't bear to be this burden forever. Eventually she'd have to branch out. Become more independent. Rely on herself. The thought made her shiver.

Not that she didn't earn her keep. She was a natural thief, and despite the slight drawback of her illiteracy, she could do most anything asked of her. She was young, yes, and inexperienced, but with a bit of help she improved rapidly. Every job was easier, every day more hopeful. She was okay. She had survived, and she had a whole new life, a whole new family.

Except for the dreams.

Remel arrived at Elgrim's shop and slipped inside. The old man was working in the corner, and Remel had to say his name thrice before he noticed she was there.

He rolled his eyes. "What do you need this time? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I need the swamp fungi," Remel begged, and Elgrim immediately scowled. "Please, Elgrim," She said, before he could argue. "I have a client—a close friend of mine—who only wants to drink himself to death. The sleep potions make it easier for him. They make him feel better. I brought things to trade." She held out the basket, and Elgrim poked through it, the scowl still fixed on his face.

"I can get all this easily, myself," he grumbled. "But the fungi are expensive, and hard to come by. They have to ship all the way from Hjaalmarch. It will be weeks before I can get more."

Remel desperately pulled out her half-empty coin purse. "I'll pay, too," she said, her voice catching. "Please. Please."

Elgrim sighed heavily and reached under the counter, pulling out five of the bulbous white pods. Remel took them reverently and tucked them in a padded pouch on her belt, made specifically for fragile ingredients. "How much do I owe you?"

"Fifty gold," Elgrim said gruffly. He glanced at the basket in front of him. "Keep all this. I have more than I need already. You'll find more use out of it."

Remel counted out the gold carefully, much to grateful to argue at the exorbitant price, then took the basket back and uttered her thanks to Elgrim, earning a grunt in response. Holding her basket and now much-depleted coin purse, she hurried back to the Guild.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

 **Super short chapter because I want to make an update even though I don't have much more to the story yet! Please leave reviews, I love to hear how I'm doing :) Also I would welcome questions if anything is confusing or unclear so that I can clarify it and improve my writing.**

 **To Elspethaurilie: I've been writing a long time but always been too shy to actually publish where someone else could read it! c: and I like Rune a lot too, I feel like he's never really pointed out or fleshed out in detail.**

Niruin returned from a job in Solitude and then left again the same day. Vipir and Cynric left the next day, headed off to Nocturnal-knew-where, doing Nocturnal-knew-what, some sort of treasure hunter's dive. Even Rune took off, headed for a quick job in Whiterun. With Thrynn still in Markarth and the Guild Master, Mercer Frey, off on his own business, Remel awoke a week after the job at Balimund's and realized she was alone in the cistern.

It was nice at first. She bathed in the cistern water, taking her time to wash her hair and scrub the dirt from her skin. She ate more than she usually would, knowing she didn't have to share with anyone. She picked Cynric's practice locks with ease, carefully re-locking them afterward.

But as the day dragged on Remel found herself agitated, glancing over her shoulder, wishing she had someone watching her back.

She decided to head into the Flagon for company, which turned out to be a mistake.

The atmosphere was tense; she felt it prickling on her skin as soon as she walked in. Vekel stood behind the bar, jaw clenched. Delvin was drinking, as usual. Tonilia was nowhere to be found, probably fencing off some stolen goods. In the corner, Vex and Brynjolf were arguing in furious whispers. Brynjolf's face had gone red.

Remel slid into the seat beside Delvin. "What's going on?" She whispered. He glanced at her, startled, and then shook his head.

"You ought to go back to the cistern, girlie. Until it all blows over. Vex—"

It was too late. The woman had seen her, and had, apparently, won whatever argument she was having with Brynjolf. She strode over and placed a missive in front of Remel. "I have a job for you," she announced. "It's time-sensitive. The mark is trying to sell off a very valuable ring, and we need it. You'll have to hurry."

Confused, Remel glanced at Delvin. He sighed and took the missive. " _Revyn Sadri is in possession of a very powerful enchanted gold ring. Should he manage to sell it, its whereabouts could be lost indefinitely. Send someone competent to steal, cheat, or barter the ring off of him, as soon as possible."_ He paused. Remel wracked her brains, trying to place the name. She didn't think she'd ever heard it before. He certainly wasn't a citizen of Riften. She glanced at Delvin, and the look of resignation on his face scared her.

"Revyn Sadri owns Sadri's Used Wares, in Windhelm," Vex supplied, and Remel's heart skipped a beat. Before she could even speak, Vex went on. "Like I said, this is a time sensitive job. I would go myself, but I'm still working on Goldenglow. Brynjolf has to stay here while Mercer is away. And Delvin..." she gestured at the old drunk, and no more words were needed. "You're the only one left. I know it isn't ideal, but you have to go."

Remel couldn't speak. Her breathing was shallow; her thoughts were warring with each other. All the way to Windhelm, on her own? She was practically defenseless. All she had was a little dagger. Bears, wolves, and worst of all, bandits of the worst variety littered the Skyrim roads. It was at least a two-day walk. And then, all the way back, carrying a valuable ring. She'd be a walking target.

 _The others do this all the time._ The thought came out of nowhere. It startled and shamed her. Thrynn went all the way to Markarth on his own, a trip that would last a number of weeks. Rune was just a few years older than her, and he regularly took jobs out of town. She could do this. She had to do this.

The Flagon had gone silent, and Remel realized they were all waiting for her reaction. She took a deep breath, then another. And finally, she smiled. "Of course I'll go. It will be a great opportunity to find rare ingredients."

The tense silence broke. Even Vex seemed to sag in relief. "I'll find Tonilia and have her outfit you for the road," she said quickly, and strode off. Out of the corner of her, eye, Remel saw Brynjolf shake his head and storm out of the Flagon.

She snapped her attention to Delvin. "Were they arguing about me?"

He sighed and drank deeply. "Aye, lass. Brynjolf would rather die than let you endanger yourself like that. The old bear gets mighty protective."

Remel flushed. This job was clearly important, and Brynjolf would rather fail than let her feel uncomfortable for a few days. She stood quickly and snatched the instructions off the table. "I have to pack," she said quickly, and hurried back to the cistern.

Only once she reached her bed did she allow herself to collapse, clutching her head in her hands. This was unacceptable. Yes, she was fragile; she had been beaten down and broken when she arrived at the Guild just months ago. But she was better now. She earned her keep. She could pick a pocket silent and quick, pick a lock with steady fingers, brew potions and poisons strong enough to knock out a grown man. She didn't need Brynjolf and Delvin to protect her like mother hens, only sending her on simple jobs within the city. And Vex was right: she was the only one who could do this job.

Squaring her shoulders, Remel stood up and began to pack her bag.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

 **I figured there's no reason to wait to publish the next chapter since I have it written, and I'm trying to gather readers anyways c: Trigger warning—implication of violence and some gore, although I kept it as bloodless as possible. I think this is still mild enough to be T but I've seen people do all sorts of things with the ratings so let me know if I should bump it up. I might have to do so in later chapters but for now I think T is safe.**

 **As always please review!!!!**

Bright and early the next morning, Remel took off for Windhelm. She wore ordinary linen pants and a shirt beneath her Guild jacket, her gray wolf-skin cloak, worn leather boots, and fingerless gloves. Her newly sharpened steel dagger hung at her waist, next to a light coin purse. In her pack, she had enough food for five days, two full waterskins, a tinderbox, a change of clothes that included fleece-lined pants for the colder weather, and a drawing of the ring she was supposed to obtain. Tonilia had helped her figure out how to strap a tent across the back of the knapsack. Overall, it was a fairly light burden, and Remel was strong, built for endurance. If not for her constant stops to collect ingredients, she would have been halfway there by the time night fell.

As it was, she made it to Shor's Stone by sunset, pockets bursting with seed pods and roots and butterfly wings. For a few gold, she stayed on the porch of one of the miners, using her large cloak as a blanket. It wasn't really warm, but it wasn't cold, either, and she rose before dawn to get back on the road.

She hoped to make it to Kynesgrove before dark, so that she could stay at the inn, but as the shadows lengthened and the air grew chill, Remel realized she'd have to stop for the night or risk getting lost. A tremble of fear grew in her stomach but she pushed it away. Nothing had happened to her so far. She was doing fine, and she was almost there. A few more days and she'd be home safe.

Remel saw a craggy rock cliff towering a few hundred feet from the road, and headed toward it, hoping to find some shelter there. The air was chilly, and heavy clouds on the horizon threatened snow in the night. Remel shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

As she neared the cliffs, she spotted a narrow crevice in the rocks, too dark to be just a shadow. She headed toward it and slipped inside. The crevice opened up into a fairly large cave, the size of the Ragged Flagon eating area; toward the back, it narrowed down again, though the light didn't reach far enough for Remel to make out any details. She examined the soft dirt floor for signs of recent activity, and saw nothing new enough to worry herself over.

Relieved, Remel dropped her things on the floor and went to gather some firewood.

By the time it was truly dark, Remel had a roaring fire going. She munched on hunks of dried, smoked salmon and her last bit of bread and cheese. Because she didn't have a bedroll, she lay her heavy fur tent across the ground and snuggled on top of it, using her warm cloak as a blanket. The sound of howling wind filled her ears as she drifted off to sleep.

When Remel awoke, the fire had died down to embers. Wind still whistled outside, blowing flakes of snow into the cave through its narrow entrance, but it was dark, pitch-dark both inside and out. Remel lay perfectly still, heart pounding in her chest, waiting to see what had woken her up.

Voices. In the cave. With her.

She clenched a trembling hand around her dagger, eyes wide open, straining to catch a glimpse of the intruders, but she saw nothing but the faint glow of sparks from the fire.

"Looks like someone was in here not long ago," came a low masculine rumble, and footsteps drew nearer to the fire.

"Think they're still nearby?" Another voice, a tenor, from the far side of the cave.

"Don't know." The first man knelt by the fire, and Remel heard him blowing gently on the sparks. She held the dagger tighter. Divines, what do I do?

The man coaxed the fire back to life, and in its gentle flicker, she caught sight of his face. He was a nord, large and muscled, with blond hair tied behind his head. He wore a simple outfit, a short, long-sleeved tunic over linen pants and fur-lined boots. His hands and head were bare, dusted with snow.

Remel stopped in her observations when her eyes met the stranger's.

He stood without hesitation and lunged toward her, calling out to his partner as he did so. Remel desperately rolled off her makeshift bedroll, clutching the dagger, and sprang up, back against the wall. The stranger came toward her slowly, face hardened, a knife in his own hand. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said, his deep voice sending spikes of fear through Remel's gut. "Hand over your valuables, and come morning, we'll let you go. Or don't, and..." he held up the knife menacingly.

Remel's breath came in short gasps. She was sure her knuckles were white on the dagger, but she clenched it even tighter. "I don't have anything valuable," she managed to whisper.

The second man appeared out of the gloom, an imperial, dressed much more sensibly for snow than his nord partner. He grabbed for Remel's knapsack and dumped its contents onto the cave floor.

Remel let out a cry and lunged for him, but the nord stepped in front of her easily, landing a punch directly into her stomach. She collapsed against his arm, wheezing, and could only watch as the vicious imperial sifted through her things.

"She's right, Raff," he snapped. "Nothing in here, except this, maybe." he held up the drawing of the ring. "What's this little beauty, huh?"

"Nothing," Remel managed to gasp, her breath coming back with a vengeance. She struggled against the nord's grip, trying desperately to get her arm around, to use the dagger somehow, but he lifted her easily and slammed her against the cave wall.

"We're doing this the hard way, then," he growled, and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made Remel freeze with fear. But it only lasted a moment. She fought against his grip with everything she had, kicking powerfully, and managed to land a solid blow to his groin.

The nord dropped her, groaning, and Remel scrambled away, brandishing the dagger again. But she'd lost sight of the imperial; he'd gone around behind her and now grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing out her breath. The nord managed to stand and came toward her again, face contorted in fury. With one swipe, he knocked the dagger from her hand; with the other, he reached for the straps of her jacket.

"You'll pay for that, elf," he snarled, and Remel felt that old fear wake within her, the helpless fear. She fought it as hard as she could, letting out a ragged scream, but she was so small and the two men held her too tightly.

It was the feeling of cold air against her bare skin that did it. Remel let out a harsh, keening wail, pouring into it all of her fear, her helplessness, her anger. And something wrenched out from within her, deep within, a place she didn't know existed.

From the back of the cave, which had been shrouded in darkness, came a rumbling, echoing snarl.

Both men stopped, turning their heads to face this new threat. The imperial's grip loosened, and Remel tore him off of her, holding her jacket closed with one hand as she went for her knife with the other. She needn't have bothered. From the swirling darkness came a huge, hulking shape. It let out another horrible growl. Remel crouched against the far wall, keeping as still as possible. Two massive yellow orbs reflected the fire light, and a moment later the dark, shambling shape resolved into a cave bear, easily dwarfing all three in the cave. The menacing click, click, click of its claws echoed through the cave as it came slowly closer, eyes fixed on Remel's two attackers. Like her, they remained still; the imperial's hand, Remel saw, was moving at a snail's pace toward the sword at his belt. The tension in the dank air was palpable.

In a millisecond, it snapped. The bear sprang forward, snapping its mighty jaws at the imperial, who barely managed to twist out of the way. With an angry roar, the beast rose on its hind legs and swiped clumsily at the nord. He, too, managed to avoid the swipes, and the imperial had managed to draw his sword and was coming at the bear with the weapon raised in front of him. For a moment, Remel thought the two men had a chance.

The bear roared again and crashed down onto the nord. He wasn't quick enough to avoid it and slammed into the ground with a cry. Remel couldn't see any wounds, but dark blood began to gather on the floor below him. The bear opened its massive jaws and lowered its head toward the nord.

Remel snapped her eyes shut and tried to block out the horrible sounds. Another cry sounded a moment later—the imperial. The bear let out a satisfied huff, and Remel opened her eyes wide, staring at it. She had been so still that she knew it wouldn't have known she was there—but the bear turned its massive, triangular head toward her.

The tiny bosmer tightened her hand on the dagger and swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as cotton.

But the bear just blinked, then dragged its massive body around, and with another small grumble, padded back to its home in the back of the cave.

It was hours before Remel could get herself to move. Finally, as foggy gray light seeped through the narrow cave entrance, Remel managed to tuck her dagger away. Her hands were trembling so hard it was a miracle she didn't hamstring herself. Moving on feet as silent as she could make them, using every ounce of thief training, she packed her things back into her knapsack. The two men's bodies grew cold, the blood blackening on the floor, but Remel didn't look at them. She didn't want to know what they looked like, what damage her savior had caused. Instead, she rolled up her tent with a calm she didn't feel and tied it back onto her backpack.

As dawn broke over a world muffled and blanketed in snow, Remel left the cave and resumed her path to Windhelm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this is kinda a short chapter. I meant to add another little bit before I published it but I'm seriously lacking in time and motivation rn, so this is what I have. Hopefully I'll be able to finish the next chapter soon.**

Remel ordered another tea and scooted her chair closer to the fire. She'd arrived at Windhelm without further incident and gone straight to the New Gnisis Cornerclub, where she'd been ever since, staring into the flames and trying to forget the feel of hands on her skin. If she could read, she would be buried deep in a book by now, she figured. As it was, she simply forced her thoughts elsewhere, though they kept wandering back.

For the hundredth time, she glanced at the bar, where the bartender, an outspoken dunmer named Ambarys, was chatting with his assistant Malthyr. On a shelf behind him sat a half dozen bottles of mead, and Remel wished she could stand the taste of liquor, if only to get a good night's sleep. She'd resorted to drinking copious amounts of herbal tea and hoping she'd feel drowsy sometime soon.

"Plan to stay the night, sister?" Said Malthyr, bringing Remel another cup of the steaming hot tea. She took it gratefully, careful to keep her hands from brushing his. Malthyr had taken one look at her cold and tense little self and seemed to gather the problem. He kept his distance, speaking to her only when she seemed she needed it, and Remel wished she had the presence of mind to express her gratitude.

"How much?" Remel said softly. Her voice seemed to have dropped in volume since the cave, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to speak louder.

"Ten gold for a night, fifty for a week." He leaned back a little and crossed his arms, his voice softer. "You'd be the only patron we've had in a while, and Ambarys hardly ever sleeps. You'd have nothing to worry about."

Remel drew out her coin purse and counted out the gold for a night in silence. Malthyr took it and exchanged it for a simple brass key. "Your room's the first one on the left as soon as you get upstairs."

She nodded her thanks, and the dunmer went back to his chores.

Remel had no idea what time it was, but she sat in the tavern for another half hour, then gathered her things and went to find her room. It was tiny, barely large enough to contain the wooden bed frame and a single wooden chair, but it had a door that locked, and that was all the bosmer needed. She tossed her pack on the chair and fell onto the bed, not even bothering to take off her shoes. Wrapping her cloak around her, she closed her eyes. It was hours before she fell into an uneasy sleep.

Finding Sadri's gold ring was laughably easy. Remel went in the store the next morning on the pretense of looking for an alchemical table she could use and spotted a locked safe tucked underneath his counter. The dunmer was clearly very paranoid and kept opening and closing the safe, checking to see that all the contents were still there—which meant that Remel got a good look at them. That night, she waited until midnight and then snuck into the store, picked the lock on the safe, and snagged the gold ring as well as a heavy coin pouch and a polished garnet she reckoned would sell for a good price. She slept in the next morning, but she was gone before noon, back on the road to Riften.

Without the delay of stopping to harvest ingredients, Remel reached Riften in two days' time. She slipped down through the secret tunnel beneath the tomb and into the cistern. It was evening; the cistern was empty, a small blessing. Remel dropped her bag on her bed and then hurried through the quiet cavern and into the Flagon. It was busy, as busy as it got these days. But the volume subsided when Remel appeared.

She felt her cheeks go red. Keeping her head down, Remel found Vex and placed the ring in her hand without saying a word.

"Simple job?" Vex said, a little surprised. Remel couldn't bring herself to speak about it, so she just nodded and turned to go.

"Wait up!"

As she reached the hall back to the cistern, Rune caught up to her and grabbed her arm. Remel panicked. Letting out a cry, she wrenched her arm away and spun, crashing through the nearest door. She started running, taking turns blindly, her mind a frenzy of get away!

After a few minutes, Remel realized the sounds of pursuit had stopped. She suddenly felt ashamed of her reaction. She couldn't go back there. And with a quick glance around, she realized she was lost, somewhere deep in the tunnels below Riften.

Remel slid down the wall, face in her hands, and began to cry.

An hour later, Remel stumbled out of the ratway and made her way to the Temple, dragging her feet. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she touched the wood.

"I had a feeling someone would come to me needing help," the dark elf priestess said in a soft voice. "Come in, my child. I just made soup, and we have room enough for you on the floor."

With a sigh of relief, the tired young bosmer slid through the door and into the welcoming arms of the priestess.


	5. Chapter 5

Brynjolf found her the next morning, as she was taking breakfast with the priests. Remel wasn't really surprised; the old thief had a knack for figuring her out. He held back from the door respectfully, eyes darting from Remel to the priests and back. Dinya placed a comforting hand on Remel's, a question in her eyes.

With a sigh, Remel stood up, abandoning her breakfast, and gestured for Brynjolf to follow her into the little storeroom, where they could speak without being overheard.

"What in the name of all divines happened to you out there, lass?" The old thief started, voice low and tight, as though he was fighting to keep his temper under control. "Are you hurt? What do you need from me?"

Remel sighed, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I was attacked," she said simply, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "I'm alright now. I just need some time."

Brynjolf turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I knew it. I told Vex that no job is so important. She wouldn't let up." He glanced back at her, sorrow in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, lass."

She frowned. "It isn't your fault."

"It..."

"It isn't," she insisted, a little louder.

Brynjolf shook his head and sighed, eyes closed. They stood in silence for a moment, the stale air in the little storeroom heavy with tension.

"I had a son," he finally said, his voice soft like the brush of a feather against her ears. "He was fifteen when we sent him on his first real job. Solitude." His eyes met hers, brimming with sadness. "He never came back. Attacked by bandits and left for dead. By the time we realized what had happened, it was far too late."

"Oh, Brynjolf..."

He stood a little straighter, as though incensed by her pity. "It was a long time ago," he growled, and his voice returned to the heavy lilt of a sleepy bear. "But I promised myself I would never lose another child to the perils of the road. I should never have let Vex send you out there."

"I could have said no," Remel began to insist, but Brynjolf shook his head.

"Not to her, and she knew it. She purposely put you in that position, in public, so you couldn't refuse." He straightened his back and met her gaze. "I made it clear to her that if she pulls anything like that again, going against my authority, she's out."

Remel felt all the blood leave her face. "Brynjolf, please, don't make it such a big deal—not for me—"

He was already turning to leave. "It isn't for you, lass," he said, and his voice was soft again. "It's for me."

Brynjolf didn't visit her again, and neither did anyone else from the Guild. Remel decided that Brynjolf hadn't shared her hiding spot with them, and she was grateful. The priests were quiet and kind, and the Temple was safe, with thick walls, a roaring fire at all hours, and a door that locked and barred.

It was a week and a half after she arrived at the Temple that Dinya came to speak with her. The dark elf sat beside Remel in the pew where she had been for an hour, staring at nothing, enjoying the blissful feeling of having an empty mind.

"How are you holding up, my child?"

Remel shook herself out of her daze and sighed. "I feel safe here," she confessed. "But I can't speak for the rest of the city. I know I have to leave sometime, but..."

"You may stay here as long as you need," the priestess hurried to say. "Do not worry about being a burden. Someone...he called himself a friend—left coin enough to last us many weeks. We have the space. This is what Mara is here for, to heal those who need it." She paused. "But surely you have people missing you?"

Remel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sure I do," she said quietly. After another long moment of silence, she glanced at Dinya. "Would you help me write a letter?"

After that, she had daily visitors from the Guild. Rune came almost every day; sometimes Cynric joined him, or Thrynn, or Vipir. Niruin came often as well. Brynjolf never visited, nor did Vex or the other higher-ups. Remel didn't mind. It irked her already that she couldn't simply take a step out of the Temple and go back to her little bed in the Guild, but for some reason whenever she approached the threshold, her body froze and she couldn't move it no matter how hard she tried.

The others didn't seem worried about it. They brought her sweet treats, and news from the Guild. Vex was on the brink of solving the Goldenglow problem, they said; Mercer had promised a lavish celebration if she could complete it within the month. They told her stories of their recent trips across Skyrim, and all the bounty they'd brought in for the Guild. Rune asked if she could brew another batch of sleeping drought for Delvin, who seemed to be wasting away.

Two weeks into this, with her family supporting her daily and easing her back into normalcy, Remel decided it was time to leave the Temple.

Rune helped her plan a celebration. She wanted to go out, to be seen in public, and though her arms trembled and her knees grew weak at the thought, she knew that Riften was her home and it was safer than most anywhere else. The people here knew and loved her; even the citizens, the blacksmith and the innkeep and the storekeepers, knew her pretty young face and held fondness for her in their hearts.

So on the third of Hearthfire, Nocturnal's Holy Day, as the sun went down, Remel let Rune walk her across the boardwalk to the Bee and Barb, where the rest of her Guild family and much of the town waited to help her celebrate this little victory.

As soon as they reached the door, Remel relaxed and unclenched her hands from Rune's arm. He gave her an encouraging smile. The noise and smoke inside were a touch overwhelming, but Remel was determined to stick it out. She made her way over to the bar, Rune half a step behind her.

"Keerava," she said over the noise of the tavern, and the argonian woman turned, a smile lighting her face.

"There she is, lovely child! I'm so glad to see you out and about." They embraced over the bar. "A drink?"

"Just tea, please," Remel said, and Keerava grinned. "Of course. One day, this child must learn to drink spirits like an adult, you know."

Remel smiled and took the tea. "Maybe someday. Not today." She took Rune's arm again and he led her over to the large table by the window, where Vipir, Thrynn, Cynric, and Niruin were seated, the two former already deep in their cups.

"There she is!" Thrynn bellowed. "The prodigal elf!"

Remel grinned and nudged him with her arm, scooting him over so she could squeeze onto the bench next to him, where she could watch the door. Rune joined her, his shoulder a warm comfort against her own, and she shot him a grateful look. He knew her so well.

"Is anyone else joining us?" She said, and had to almost shout to let herself be heard. Niruin shook his head. "No, the rest are all busy tonight." He snorted. "Pricks."

Cynric elbowed him and they bantered back and forth; Remel couldn't catch it all over the noice of the tavern, but she didn't need to. Her family was here; she was safe; she was happy.

As the night wore on, many of Riften's citizens stopped by to greet Remel, expressing their gladness to see her well and their concern when she had been gone for so long. She told them all she had been very ill. It wasn't a lie, not in the broadest of terms. They were glad she was feeling better.

Her warm tea made her sleepy, and Remel rested her head on Rune's shoulder with a sigh. The others were drunk and rowdy; Rune, she noticed, hadn't drank, nor had he left her side. She had a thought to express her gratefulness, but before she could say a thing, the door crashed open with a chaotic energy so strong that the room went quiet.

Remel sat straight, her eyes fixed on the three Dunmer who strode through the door as if they owned the place, all clad in armor of twisted bone plates. Remel felt her heart drop into her stomach, then to the floor, as her eyes lit on the leader's face.

"Oh, Divines," she whispered, broken.

 _Would she never be safe?_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N

 **Sorry for the long pause. I had no inspiration. Also in case you were wondering here's Remel's backstory :) It's not graphic at all but there is some alluding to sexual abuse so please let me know if I should update the rating to M? Anyways please review thnx :)))))))**

"We need to leave," Remel hissed, hand wrapped tight around Rune's arm. "Now."

He didn't hesitate, didn't ask her to explain. He simply nodded and stood up silently, guiding her up next to him. As the strangers seated themselves at the bar and their leader ordered a tankard of mead, he skulked along the shadows, Remel close behind. They slipped out the door before anyone even noticed they were gone.

Remel didn't loosen her grip on Rune's arm until they were inside the cistern and perched on Rune's bed. Then she let go of him and wrapped her arms around herself. The warmth of her gray cloak did nothing to calm her trembling.

Rune leaned her against the wall and wrapped his own fur blanket around her, then stood and trotted across the cistern. A moment later he returned, one of Remel's potions in hand. She recognized it as a simple calming tonic, labeled with a peaceful-looking smiley face. She took the potion gratefully and drained it.

She didn't know how much time passed before she was breathing normally and her body stopped shaking, but when she opened her eyes and looked around, Brynjolf was there. He sat slumped in the chair beside Rune's bed; Rune himself leaned against the wall, looking unhappy.

"What is it?" Remel said quickly, sitting up. "Am I in trouble?"

Brynjolf sat forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Look, lass," he began quietly, though the three of them were the only ones in the cistern. "Almost four months ago you showed up at the guild, traumatized and broken, with naught but a letter from Delvin's brother asking us to take you in. Glover is a good thief and a better man, so we did. But we can't go on like this. I feel blind. How can I protect you when I don't know what to protect you from?"

Remel's shoulders were beginning to shake, but her voice was steady when she answered.

"I grew up in Solstheim."

 _Nchardak, the City of a Hundred Towers, was home. As a child, Remel scaled the walls, swam in the warm sea water, collected ingredients and experimented with them, and explored the hundreds of sunken rooms while her father and the rest of their Reaver clan planned raids and preyed on weary travelers. He was their leader; despite his Bosmer heritage, he was the strongest of them all, bloodthirsty and vicious, with a strategic mind. Remel was his princess; he gave her the world. She wanted for nothing, prosperous as they were._

 _As she grew older, Father reined her in, told her to stay inside their tower room whenever he was away. He would lock the door, but Remel learned to pick it, for she liked to go out and play with Dorei, the dunmer boy close to her age. Sometimes she would climb out the window instead, into the sea outside. But Dorei was made to go with them on raids when he turned eighteen, so Remel was alone, locked in her sunken tower room._

 _Father had a nemesis, Vilkaleth. Remel always thought their rivalry was nothing more than a friendly competition. At seventeen, on a crisp and ashy spring day, she learned that she was wrong._

 _Watching out her window for Father's return, Remel saw a dark figure slide into the water and swim toward her window. She perked up, recognizing Dorei's strong strokes. She pried open the window and he tumbled inside, splashing salt water all over her._

 _"Run, Remel," he gasped, but she didn't understand._

 _"You're soaked through," she exclaimed, searching for a blanket. "Why didn't you come across the bridge, silly boy? It's not warm enough for swimming yet."_

 _"You have no time," he said, frantic, batting away the proffered towel. "Pack some food and get out of here. They're coming for you."_

 _She finally registered his panic, but still, naive, she didn't flee. "What happened? Are you all right?"_

 _Dorei glanced out the window and his face went stark. Vilkaleth and his cronies marched across the bridge, lifting the former Reaver Lord's limp and bloodied body above them in triumph. When Remel's eyes strayed toward the window he quickly blocked it, unwilling to let his young friend see such a gruesome sight. Perhaps that was a mistake._

 _"There's no time," he said brokenly, and cast around the room. "Lock and barricade the door, Remel. That will buy you some time."_

 _She finally obeyed, though she threw him quizzical glances the whole time. Dorei could think of nothing else. He threw some clothes, coins, and food in a bag and handed it to her; then he glanced out the window again. The mob had reached the courtyard and whooped and cheered in excitement. A celebration was beginning. He could smell the ale already._

 _Perhaps they would forget her until they were well and truly drunk. The thought heartened him; she could be halfway to Raven Rock by then, if she left now._

 _The universe had other plans._

 _"If you climb out the window and swim south, you can avoid being seen—"_

 _Heavy hands pounded on the door, and Dorei's skin went clammy. Remel's eyes showed true fear now, and she turned her pretty face toward him. "Dorei, don't lie to me. What's going on?"_

 _"They killed your father, Rem," he whispered. "Now they want you."_

 _Her eyes flashed with fear, but she stood strong, and in that moment he lamented that he had never told her he loved her. She ran to her massive dwarven wardrobe and wrenched open the door._

 _"Get in," she commanded. "If they know you tried to help me, they will kill you. You must act like you are one of them if you want to survive."_

 _"What about you?"_

 _She didn't answer, only gestured for him to climb into the wardrobe. He obeyed, heart pounding. The banging at the door was louder now, coupled with angry voices. Remel leaned forward and placed a kiss on Dorei's forehead. "Be safe," she whispered, and closed the door._

 _When the door broke down, she was ready, her father's prized dwarven dagger in her hand. But there were too many of them, despite their drunkenness. The dagger slid across the floor and disappeared. Two dunmer who had watched her grow up, who Remel had always thought of as her uncles, held her down, and Vilkaleth forced a paralysis potion down her throat._

 _The rest was fuzzy in her mind, a result of the poorly-made concoction, which captured her mind as well as her body, and repeated drugging over the next few weeks. But she remembered enough to know that her childhood was stripped from her, her innocence. Every Reaver man in the fort came to visit her, and many of the women. Vilkaleth was there every day._

 _She was locked in that tower room—her home made into her prison—until she had wasted away to nothing, until she had outlived her usefulness as a play-thing. And then they threw her out and left her to die._

 _But she did not die._

"I found my way to Raven Rock," Remel said, lifting her eyes to meet Brynjolf's for the first time since she began her tale. "I slept in the old mine and took messages for food. Glover took pity on me; maybe he saved my life. When I found an old pendant in the mine, he helped me sell it for what it was worth, when another would have tricked me out of it. Then he booked my passage to Skyrim and outfitted me to survive until I found my way here."

She couldn't bring herself to look at Rune, to see the pity and horror that was no doubt written on his face. So she fixed her gaze on her hands instead. "I often wondered what happened to Dorei. I thought they must have found him and killed him. Until he walked into the Bee and Barb tonight, with Rokath, Vilkaleth's second-in-command." She shuddered and fought back fuzzy memories of pain and fear that threatened to arise.

The two men were silent for a long time, long enough that Remel thought perhaps they had left. But she looked up and both were still there, matching looks of studied impassiveness written on their faces.

She shivered and drew her arms around herself. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I guess I should have told you earlier."

Rune crossed the floor in a single step and settled down beside her, his shoulder against hers, but no other contact between them. "Do not be sorry," he said quietly. "Nothing that has happened to you—any of it—is your fault." He sent a meaningful gaze to Brynjolf, who nodded and stood purposefully.

"Stay here, lass," he told her. "I'll find out what those bastards are up to." He stared back at Rune. "Take care of her."

Rune nodded, shifting closer to Remel, and Brynjolf was gone.

Remel took a deep breath and let the tension in her shoulders ease.

This was her family. She was safe here. They would take care of her.


	7. Chapter 7

Remel was still awake late that night when the others stumbled home from a long night of revelry. None of them seemed to notice that she had slipped out early; no one so much as glanced toward her corner of the cistern. She was glad of that, because she didn't want to have an awkward conversation with one of her drunk brothers-in-crime. She finally drifted off to sleep a few hours before dawn.

Brynjolf's return a little after sunrise roused her from an uneasy sleep. Always a light sleeper, Remel heard him talking quietly with Rune a little ways off and shook herself awake, padding over to meet them on bare feet, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

"What's going on?"

Brynjolf greeted her with a nod. "From what I could tell, those three Reavers are here in Riften looking to pursue a partnership with Maven Black-Briar. Black-Briar mead goes for a good price in Solstheim, and—apparently—your old friends are looking for a more...lawful way to obtain gold these days."

Remel frowned, but didn't comment as Rune went on. "We're trying to hatch a plan to get Dorei alone. He's quieter and less involved than the other two. We could draw him away with a bribe, but..."

"Send one of the little ones," Remel advised. "He won't hesitate."

Brynjolf nodded and Rune jogged away, no doubt to "borrow" one of Grelod's orphans for the day. Remel's young, fresh face worked wonders most of the time, but sometimes a smaller child was needed. Besides, at the rate the kids were adopted, most of them were likely to join the Guild when they were turned out on their eighteenth birthdays anyway.

"Have something to eat," Brynjolf advised. "Vekel made a special batch of tea for the revelers last night. It should be still hot."

Remel smiled at him gratefully and headed out toward the Flagon, not bothering to put on shoes or her guild jacket over the light shirt and comfy linen pants she'd slept in. The Flagon was practically deserted at this hour; Vekel mopped the floor, Tonilia sat near her wares doing figures, and Dirge rested by the faded wooden sign, eyes closed, though Remel knew he was very much alert.

"Tea's hot," Vekel said by way of greeting. Remel thanked him and poured some for herself from the kettle resting by the fire, then hopped up onto one of the bar stools and stared into the fire.

When she'd arrived in Riften and made her way down to the Ragged Flagon for the first time, Remel had forcibly thrown memories of her childhood and Solstheim out of her mind. It had taken two weeks, but finally she'd closed the vault door on that chapter of her life and locked it behind her.

Then three of her old Reaver companions smashed it open from the inside, laying bare all that she was to her new family.

Remel sighed and took another sip of her tea. Her hands were trembling and her heart was beating faster than usual. She stood up and waved goodbye to Vekel, then headed back to the cistern and over to the alchemy table.

When she moved in and expressed a talent in brewing potions, Brynjolf had showed her the old alchemy table. It was dusty and rusted with disuse at the time, but with a little cleaning and a few fresh parts, the table was ready to use. Since Remel was the only one who ever went near the thing, she had taken the liberty of organizing it and the cupboard beside it with her own system. She opened the cupboard and groaned with frustration when she saw that her "calm" section was completely empty. Rune must have brought her the last one yesterday.

Grumbling under her breath, Remel set her flagon of tea to the side and set to work finding, sorting, chopping, boiling, and distilling the correct ingredients. She lost herself in the work for a few hours as the city awoke above her and thieves awoke around her. Thrynn and Niruin both greeted her as they headed into the Flagon, but she was so caught up in her work that she didn't notice. Only when she had exhausted her supply of lavender did Remel bottle and label her potions and wipe down the alchemy table. She set two of the calming tonics aside and stored the rest, labeled in charcoal with a distinct happy face that Remel easily distinguished from her other rudimentary sketches.

She was rinsing herself off in the cistern when Rune reappeared and beckoned her towards him.

Quickly, Remel slipped on a clean outfit, her soft old boots, and her too-big Guild jacket and followed him out through the crypt and into the busy street. Brynjolf and Runa, the little blond nord from the orphanage, waited for them in a dim alley behind the inn.

"Everything is ready," Rune said, his soft voice made softer with empathy. "Just point out which one is Dorei, and Runa will take care of the rest."

Remel nodded, but her stomach turned over, and she found herself wishing she'd taken Brynjolf's advice to eat something. Instead she knelt beside the little girl and watched the marketplace. After a moment, Rokath and the third Dunmer, Lundras, ambled into view. Dorei trailed along behind them, poorly concealed melancholy on his face.

"The last one," she whispered. Dorei was tall for a Dunmer; he had always towered over her tiny Bosmer frame. His skin was the color of wet ash, his face all angles, red-rimmed eyes glowering beneath a sharp brow. He wore his night-dark hair short and spiked up in the front. Remel remembered it long and soft, and realized she knew exactly when and why he'd cut it off. He looked thin under his bonemold armor. Remel suspected that he, like her, had trouble eating and sleeping these days.

Runa scampered out into the marketplace and bumped into Dorei, attempting to pick his pocket with much enthusiasm and no skill. Dorei caught her hand and, instead of shouting, bent down to speak to her, as Remel knew he would. Rune took Remel's arm. "This way," he whispered. "We 'borrowed' Honeyside for the afternoon."

She nodded and allowed him to lead her towards the empty house. Her heart sped up as she imagined Dorei's face when he saw her, alive and whole.

As soon as they got inside, she pulled one of her brews out of her pocket and downed half of it.

"Hey," Rune said, pulling her into a gentle side-hug. It was exactly what she needed without being too much, and he knew it. "I'll be right here the whole time. Same with Brynjolf. Everything will be fine."

Remel nodded and drew a deep, shuddery breath.

Then the door opened and her past walked in.


	8. Chapter 8

Dorei's eyes found Brynjolf first, and his hand went to the axe at his belt. Then he saw Remel and his face went ghostly pale. His hands clenched at his sides, and his jaw worked, but no sounds came out.

Remel's heart was pounding, but she took a deep breath. "Hello, Dorei," she managed.

He let out a little gasp. "I thought you were dead," he whispered, and took a step forward.

Rune tensed, stepping halfway in front of Remel, hands on the daggers at his sides. Dorei froze, his face a mixture of longing and fear, and the dirty, unfurnished house was silent and tense for a few seconds.

Then Brynjolf stepped forward cautiously. "Perhaps we should all sit down."

Remel and Dorei took seats on either side of the rickety old table that sat in the kitchen. Brynjolf perched on a wooden crate next to Remel, and Rune leaned himself against the door frame, arms crossed. Remel pulled out her bottle of calming solution and drank another few drops.

"What happened, Remel?" Dorei began, his voice a fraction of its usual volume. "How did you survive? I remember..." his eyes went dark, and Remel quickly interrupted.

"I found my way to Raven Rock," she said, and repeated her story, skimming over the bits about the Thieves' Guild—no reason to put Glover in any sort of danger. "Then you all arrived," she finished. "What are you doing here, truly, Dorei? There is no way that you're simply here to set up a trading line with Maven."

He hesitated, eyes flicking to Brynjolf, before he answered. "You're right," he said, and sighed. "Vilkaleth has found a reliable supplier of Balmora Blue. He's looking for a buying market in Skyrim, and he figured Riften would be a good place to start, with the Thieves' Guild and everything. We have instructions to keep traveling until we find a reliable place to sell it, then work on setting up a supply line—perhaps with the khajiit. I'm not sure of the details. Rokath is handling most of it. I'm just muscle." He shrugged. "Vilkaleth thinks traveling a bit will be good for my 'morale'." He said it with poorly disguised disgust, and Remel had a feeling she knew exactly why Dorei's morale was low.

She met Brynjolf's eyes; he had that studied blank look that meant he was thinking, hard and fast. After a moment, he gave her a little nod and stood up.

"We'll be in touch," he said briskly. "But we need to go now. Keep a sharp eye out; Riften's not the safest place for residents, let alone travelers. Watch your pockets."

When Remel stood, Rune was at her shoulder, a warm, comforting presence. She didn't know what to say to Dorei, so she said nothing at all, just gave him a little nod, and a look that she hoped said everything.

Then they were through the door, and Remel felt no better than she had before.

She had a small lunch in the cistern and then retired for a nap, exhausted from the emotional strain of the day. When she awoke, groggy and sluggish, the cistern was dark and empty.

Feeling nervous, Remel quickly roused herself and threw on her jacket, then padded on quiet bare feet to the Flagon. When she opened the secret door, a wave of warmth, light, and noise greeted her. She emerged into the hallway, blinking, and caught sight of Niruin.

"What's happening?" She asked over the din, attaching herself to his side.

"Vex did it," he boomed, words slurred with mead. "The Goldenglow job. Mercer's throwing us a party to celebrate!"

Remel felt her heart lift. Finally, something was going right for them. She smiled and made her way over to the bar, where Vekel was pouring flagons of Black-Briar Mead with fervor.

"A mug, to celebrate?" He said, and Remel shook her head. "You know I don't drink. I'll stick to tea, thank you."

He shrugged and pulled a cup from the bar. "Here, there's some still warm on the fire. Help yourself."

She did so, scraping the bottom of the pot. She was thinking about making some more when she turned and came face-to-face with Vex.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, a magnificent feat given the noise surrounding them.

"Congratulations," Remel finally stuttered.

"Thanks," Vex replied, folding her arms, then unfolding them. Vex had argued against Remel's admittance to the Guild when she arrived, and they'd had a rocky relationship ever since. Remel knew that Vex thought she didn't earn her keep. "It was a stroke of luck, mostly."

"I'm sure that's not true. You're an amazing thief."

"Well, um," Vex cleared her throat. "Maven's asking for someone to go to a special job in Whiterun, and I thought—well, I know you don't like to leave Riften, but if you took someone with you, maybe Thrynn, I thought you'd like to go. You've improved so much since you got here, and it would be a good opportunity to get your name out. I mean, if you want." She shifted uncomfortably.

Remel took a moment to realize what Vex was offering: a complicated job, a few weeks away from Riften, and a chance to earn a reputation—with a partner to help her out if things got rough. She wouldn't be alone on the road, and she could see a bit more of the world. Vex was trying to look out for her, in her own odd way.

She smiled. "I'd love to. When should we leave?"

Vex relaxed noticeably. "Sometime in the next few days. You can take whoever you want—Mercer and I talked about it. I'll send the full details over to you sometime tomorrow, if that works."

"It sounds great." Remel smiled. "Thank you. But you should get back to the party! We're celebrating you, after all."

Vex nodded and turned away without another word. Remel felt the weight of the day slip off her shoulders. Vex, the only other woman in the Thieves' Guild besides Tonilia, was finally making an effort to connect with her.

She smiled and went out to join the party.


	9. Chapter 9

Rune and Cynric dangled their feet in the cistern water, waiting for Remel to wake up.

"She'll probably take you," Cynric was saying, picking at his fingernails. "We're all family but she trusts you more than anyone, except maybe Brynjolf."

"I don't know," Rune replied doubtfully. "I thought she'd pick someone strong, a bodyguard type. Like Niruin, or Thrynn, maybe."

Both men cast glances across the cistern, to where Thrynn was going through his morning exercises, shirtless and shoeless. Even from that distance his body was a checkerboard of scars, a testament to his life as a bandit.

Remel made a small sound and rolled over in her bed; Rune and Cynric turned back to gaze at her, their movements as one. Cynric let out a small sigh.

"What?" Rune said, glancing at him.

Cynric shrugged, a sad weight in his shoulders. "She's got more scars than all of us," he said quietly. "Only hers are on the inside, and they aren't near healed yet."

Rune fixed his gaze back on Remel, the hazel skin of her arms splayed against the dark gray cloak she used as a blanket. Her face was tense, eyebrows furrowed, and Rune wondered what dark dreams were plaguing her young mind this time.

Not that he was much older. Not quite twenty-four, Rune had been the youngest in the large and dysfunctional Guild family for a number of years, and had become used to being the center of attention. The matter at hand was finding whatever they could about his birth family, though that had gotten nowhere. But now that Remel was here, they babied her. Vekel always had tea on the hearth for her; Delvin withheld simple jobs for her; Maul watched out for her on the streets.

Rune didn't mind the shift in attention. He kind of liked it. Even if he didn't, Remel needed the love and support far more than he ever had.

Remel shifted again, and yawned. Rune glanced at Cynric, who launched into the story of his and Vipir's latest (failed) adventure.

Remel awoke to the sounds of the cistern: arrows thwacking into their targets, water pouring into the cistern, Cynric telling the tale of his pursuits. She stretched and yawned, letting the sounds pull her into wakefulness, and opened her eyes. Rune and Cynric sat on the edge of the cistern; Cynric was talking animatedly, waving his hands, and Rune was cleaning his fingernails with a dagger, looking bored.

Remel yawned again and rose, shivering in the cool morning air. She picked up her guild jacket, sniffed it, and gagged. It definitely needed washing today. She made a mental list of everything else to do before she left for Whiterun—potions to make, clothes to pack, food to buy. And who to bring with her? It was a conundrum. She pushed the thought to the side and began to do her washing instead.

It was late afternoon, and Remel was almost done with her checklist when Niruin approached her. She greeted him with a distracted smile, loath to look away from the delicate potion-making process.

"Sister," he said by way of greeting. "Vex sent me to tell you the details of the Whiterun job. Is it a good time?"

Remel sighed and turned off the heat. The potion was nearly ruined anyway. "Its as good a time as any," she said, and began to scrub plant residue off the table.

"A competitor of Black-Briar Meadery just opened near Whiterun. Maven is paying good money to shut it down and find out who their investor is.She's got a man on the inside, Malborn; you're supposed to meet him in Whiterun, and he'll give you the rest of the details."

Remel nodded along. It seemed simple enough, but anything involving Maven wouldn't be so easy. When she realized Niruin was still standing next to her, she glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone is wondering who you'll choose to go with you," he said in his smooth voice. "It's a complicated job. You'll need help."

With a sigh, the young bosmer straightened up and crossed her arms. "I'm working on it. I still have a few days."

"The sooner the better."

Remel didn't understand why Niruin was so snappy today. So she decided to ignore him, instead neatly tucking her potions away in the cupboard and pushing past him, headed toward the Cistern's secret entrance. He stared after her, but made no move to follow.

By nightfall, Remel returned to the cistern, lugging a sack full of salted meat and waterskins. She was barefoot, carrying her newly repaired boots in one hand, unwilling to risk wearing them out so soon. Rune greeted her as she passed the dining area. "Do you need any help preparing for your trip?"

His eyes and voice were kind, and Remel realized she had unconsciously made up her mind.

"You mean our trip?" She replied, a twinkle in her eye, and Rune grinned.

"Aye, that's what I meant. When are you—we—leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," she said brusquely. "I've made the arrangements with Sigaar already. We'll leave at sunrise."

"I'll be ready," he said with a little wave.

Remel was packing her knapsack when she felt eyes on the back of her neck and turned to see Brynjolf approaching silently.

"All ready, lass?"

"Pretty much," she said, stretching her arms. "I took some supplies from the stores; Vekel said it was all right."

"Aye, of course. And I've got something else for you." He pulled a small hunting bow and a quiver of arrows from behind his broad back. The bow was almost comically small in his hands, but when he handed it to Remel, she realized it was just the right size for her tiny frame. The quiver held a score of arrows, tipped with hard steel and fletched with goose feathers.

"Brynjolf, what—"

"You need to be able to defend yourself, lass."

"I have a dagger," she said, gesturing to the sheath at her waist.

"Aye, but the idea is they don't get close enough for you to have to use that little pig-sticker," he answered with a chuckle. "I know you're busy, but Niruin agreed to show you a thing or two tonight after he gets back from the market. Just to be sure you can shoot the damn thing."

She nodded, struck speechless by his generosity. Even a little thing like that must have cost him a pretty penny, and no doubt it was out of his own pocket.

Then she remembered Windhelm, and Solstheim, and realized why he was so protective of her.

"Thank you," she said, and her voice was small. "I've...got to get back to packing."

"Of course." He nodded, stood awkwardly for a moment, and then gave her shoulder a pat. Without another word he turned and jogged back toward the Flagon.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**

 **Sorry for the long wait. I was having trouble getting motivated to write this chapter. Also, I realized that the story was moving reallllllly slow, so I hope things pick up a bit here! There's finally some action, plus it's much longer than the other chapters. Thank you for bearing with me :) Please review if you like it!**

The trip to Whiterun was quicker and more pleasant than Remel anticipated. She and Rune took turns sitting in the wagon and walking beside Zedde, Sigaar's surly guard, a tall Nord woman with a stony expression and a sharp sword at her belt. The wagon was cramped--full of barrels of salted fish, kegs of Black-Briar Mead, piles of wolf and fox furs, and wooden crates of sweet golden honeycomb. The latter, Remel was sure, would sell for a small fortune, due to Goldenglow's recent 'accident'.

She started to wear the hunting bow on her back, which was uncomfortable at first, but she quickly became used to its weight. Niruin had shown her how to string and unstring it, wax the string, oil the wood, and check the arrows for wear. Of course, she didn't know how to shoot the damn thing, but she wouldn't need to yet, not with Zedde stoically guarding the wagon day and night.

They spent the first night at a little place called Heartwood Mill. Remel and Rune each paid the weary mill worker a handful of septims for a bowl of warm soup and a place by the firepit outside; Sigaar offered a sack of dried fish and a tiny piece off the honeycomb. They slept in bedrolls around the large firepit, listening to the rush of the waterwheel. The next night found them at Ivarstead, where Sigaar stayed at the inn. wanting to save money, Remel and Rune crawled under the parked carriage and slept there, curled up in their bedrolls and mostly sheltered from the wind and light rain.

The following evening, just before sunset, they reached Whiterun. Remel sat up straight on the back of the cart, staring; she had never seen a place so grand as the castle that towered over the city, dominating the plains with a quiet majesty. Even Windhelm, the City of Kings, didn't approach the grace and awe of Whiterun.

Sigaar drove them right up to the gates so he could begin to unload his wares. Remel thanked him for the safe trip, then she and Rune made their way up the broad cobbled streets, looking for the Bannered Mare. It dominated the market square, a squat but still elegant building; the sounds coming from inside indicated without a doubt that it was the place they were looking for.

Remel heaved her bag higher on her shoulder and exchanged a glance with Rune. He was tired, wrinkles under his hazel eyes, but he smiled at her and his face softened. "Are you ready?" He said in his kind voice.

"I guess I have to be," she responded, and opened the tavern door.

The inn was packed. A bard strummed a merry tune in one corner; mercenaries and shopkeepers crowded around the fire, telling bawdy tales; a serving girl darted here and there, bringing drinks and food to those who requested it. The noise and stuffy air was overwhelming. Remel pushed through it, making her way to the counter.

"I need a room," she said, shouting over the noise. "Two of us, a few days."

"I've just got one room available," the matronly innkeeper responded, her own voice raised. "It's got a double bed. The bunks in the back are all full."

Remel glanced at Rune, who shrugged. She pulled out her coin purse. "How much?"

The innkeeper named a borderline exorbitant price, and Remel grunted, counting out the coins. Tonilia had sent them with plenty of gold for the trip, but Remel didn't have to be happy about it. Almost half their gold, gone for a simple place to stay.

"Soup's hot," the innkeeper concluded. "Let Saadia know if you want any."

Remel nodded her thanks, then she and Rune trotted up the stairs. It was mildly quieter up there, though the noise and smoke from the fire floated upwards and settled around the bed. Remel peeked out over the tavern area; they had a little balcony, complete with its own table, from which they could watch the comings and goings of the inn.

Rune was organizing his things when she returned to the bedroom, the contents of his bag spread out across the big double bed that dominated the room. "I don't see the man you're looking for. Any idea what he looks like?"

Remel shrugged. "I'll ask around."

"I'll come with you." Rune quickly put his things away and they made their way downstairs. Remel snagged the serving girl on her way by.

"Do you know of anyone named Mallus?" She inquired, and the frightened-looking redguard simply pointed toward the kitchen. Remel exchanged a glance with Rune, and they headed into the smaller back room, where a dark-haired imperial sat at a table alone, drinking.

"Piss off," he said, before either of them had a chance to speak.

"Maven sent us," Remel said quickly, taking a seat in the chair across from him. His bleary eyes brightened a bit with recognition, but quickly darkened again, suspicion crossing his face.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

Remel glanced at Rune, who sighed and pulled up the sleeve on his right arm. Tattooed across his forearm, dark against his pale skin, was the Guild mark, a diamond encasing a circle.

Mallus nodded and sighed, sitting back and setting down his drink.

"All right, all right. So you're here for the Honningbrew job." He glanced between the two of them, and one eyebrow went up. "You aren't much to look at, that's the truth."

"Just give us the details," Rune growled.

Remel listened intently as Mallus explained the situation. "The meadery owner, Sabjorn, is scheduled to hold a tasting with the captain of the guard, but the meadery is invested with skeevers. Nasty things. Sabjorn is frantic to get rid of the things, and that's where you come in. You'll...happen by and offer to take care of the pest problem for Sabjorn. He's got the pest poison all ready, I made sure of that. Take care of the skeevers, and while you're at it, dump some of the rat poison into the mead vat."

Remel leaned back, startled. "Won't that kill the guard captain?" She wasn't an advocate of murder.

"No, no, no. It's not strong enough for that, not diluted as it will be in the vat of mead. It'll just give the stuff a kick, if you know what I mean. It should hardly have any negative effects."

Remel nodded, thinking through the plan. It was convoluted, that was for sure, but it didn't seem too hard.

"So the skeever tunnels lead to the brewery?" Rune confirmed, and Mallus nodded.

"The little beasts have been growing their tunnel network for weeks. I made sure both paths were open, to the brewery and back. You should have no trouble getting there." He paused. "Make sure you well and truly clear out the things," he iterated. "Maven wants to take over the place, and it won't go well for you if it's still infested with pests after all this is done."

"Fine." Remel nodded. "When is the tasting?"

"Tomorrow night. But the sooner you get it done, the better." He paused, as though thinking, and then added, "Be careful. These aren't...regular skeevers, that'll run and hide after a good kick. They're fairly vicious, and their bite has a nasty venom to it. I don't want you to fail, but I don't want to report to Maven that her pets got killed on the job, either."

Remel rolled her eyes and stood up. "Thanks for the heads up. We'll find you when we're done."

Mallus made a "harrumph" noise as she and Rune slipped out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

Remel sat on the bed with a sigh, pulling her pack toward her and rifling through it. She had a few potions that she'd made before they left—two for strength, two that heightened the senses, and a few that sped healing, but if what Mallus said was true and the skeevers were vicious and venomous, she'd need a few more, plus other assorted medical supplies. She voiced all this to Rune, who nodded in agreement.

"The woman who runs the alchemist's shop here is supposed to be quite skilled," he said by way of reply. "Maybe you could go ask her for help brewing tomorrow. Vex sent me with a few other jobs here, while we're in town. I'll do those while you're at the shop."

Remel nodded; it was a solid plan. She hoped the alchemist wouldn't question exactly why she needed a number of healing potions and poison antidotes.

With a sigh, she shoved her pack onto the floor, shed her guild coat, and curled up under the blankets on one side of the bed. Rune moved around the room for another moment, then climbed in on the other side of the bed and yawned. Remel scooted a little closer to him furtively, trying to absorb some of his body heat.

She thought she wouldn't sleep, due to the noise drifting up from the tavern below, but within a few moments she slipped off into a gentle doze.

When Remel awoke, she realized she was tucked against Rune's side, with his warm arm wrapped around her. She lay deathly still, her breathing shallow, wondering exactly how they had gotten into this situation, and exactly how she was going to get herself out of it.

The body beside her shifted as Rune groaned and stretched, and Remel took the opportunity to roll away, back to her own side of the bed, and then further. She dropped onto the floor with a dull thunk and lay there for a moment, studying the grain in the floorboards. She didn't want to think about how warm it had been right there beside him, how safe she had felt with his arm wrapped around her...

 _Stop being sappy, s_ he scolded herself, and rose. She changed her clothes in record time, strapped her dagger to her belt and the hunting bow to her back, and slipped down the stairs and out the door, foregoing breakfast in favor of distance.

The world outside was foggy. She could barely see to the well in the center of the market square. Despite that, it was busy, with shoppers bustling around, their voices subdued, lost in the fog. She approached the old woman selling jewelry and asked where to find the alchemist's shop.

A moment later, she slipped in the door of Arcadia's Cauldron. The shopkeeper, Arcadia, greeted her with a smile. "Can I help you, dear?"

Remel approached the counter, returning the smile. "I need your help," she said honestly. "A friend and I were hired for a difficult job, and I was hoping you could help me brew some potions. I have a little experience, but, well, I'm self taught." She gave Arcadia her best guileless smile, and watched as the woman's heart melted at the sight of the poor young wood elf before her.

"Of course, my dear. Let's get you ready to go."

A good number of hours later, Remel's eyes and back ached from bending over the alchemy table, but she had a dozen new potions of different uses and strengths. Arcadia also sent her with instructions to pick some tundra cotton outside the city. The stuff was ultra-absorbent, and could stuff a wound to quickly stop bleeding. On the way back to the inn, Remel stopped at the general store and bought an old shirt, which she promptly tore into pieces for bandages.

As soon as Remel entered the Bannered Mare, her stomach made its complaints known. She realized she hadn't eaten anything yet that day, and took a seat at the counter. The tavern room was markedly different than it had been the night before; the fire burned low, and only a few patrons sat in shadowed corners. The bard sat at a table, taking a break, a bottle of mead before him.

"Your friend told me to tell you he'd be back an hour before sunset," the innkeeper announced, and Remel thanked her. After eating a full meal of soup and bread, she decided to retire for a nap before they left for the Meadery.

Rune shook her awake a bit later; she was groggy, but felt better for the nap, ready to face the rest of the day. "How did your jobs go?" She yawned, and Rune grinned.

"Fantastic." He emptied his pockets onto the bed, and gold coins tumbled out, mixed in with the odd gemstone and a couple of silver rings.

Remel laughed. "Congratulations," she said. "Now let's get moving. We're running short on time."

Rune tucked the booty into his pack and hid it under the bed, then checked for his daggers, one at each waist. Remel emptied hers, but for the essentials—potions, medical supplies—and slung it on her back, pulling the hunting bow on over it. She glanced down at herself with a critical eye, then nodded. "I'm ready. You?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

She smiled slightly and turned on her heel, heading down the stairs and out the door.

Honningbrew Meadery was just a few minutes' walk down the road from Whiterun. They reached it as the sun neared the horizon. Remel knocked on the door, to no response; she shrugged and pushed it open. Inside, it was chaos. The man who Remel assumed was the owner, Sabjorn, stood in front of the counter, aggressively sweeping skeever droppings off the ground. Empty bottles littered the ground and counter; the few tables in the corners were covered with moldy food. Sabjorn jerked his head up when they entered, a gleam in his crazed eyes.

"What do you want? Huh? Come to laugh at an old man?"

"Of course not," Remel said in her most placating voice. "We heard you had a...pest problem. We wanted to help."

"If the price is right," Rune added, and Remel rolled her eyes. "Yes. If the price is right."

Sabjorn seemed to sag with relief. "Thank the divines. I was just about to send for the Companions, no matter how damn expensive they are. Here." He hurried behind his counter and thrust a large square bottle into Remel's hands. She raised her eyebrows; it was a lot of poison. She hoped Mallus knew what he was talking about.

"What about the payment?" Rune interrupted, and Sabjorn grunted.

"I'll have it for you when you get back. No dead skeevers, no payment, got it?"

"Got it," Remel interjected. "Come on, Rune, let's get to it."

Rune grumbled a bit, but acquiesced. Remel led the way through the storeroom and down to the basement. It was even nastier down there, with skeever droppings and fur everywhere. It was clear Sabjorn had made an effort to catch the beasts, with empty bear traps scattered across the floor, but he hadn't had an ounce of success.

Remel's heartbeat grew faster in her chest. She could sense the skeevers, smell them; her bosmer blood, with its special connection to wildlife, told her they were in danger. She drew her dagger and fell into a defensive stance. Sensing her trepidation, Rune did the same.

They crept toward the tunnel, with the wooden slats broken down and useless, as Mallus had said. Remel had only a moment's warning, a dark shadow shifting, before the skeever flew out of the darkness with a hiss and went for her throat. She managed to wrest the thing away from her and hurled it against the wall, where it collapsed with a throaty hiss. She turned to Rune, who had gone pale.

"That's the biggest skeever I've ever seen," he whispered. "And we live in the Ratway."

Remel took a deep breath. "It's a good thing I brought so many potions."

They crept through the dark tunnels, encountering more skeevers, many the size of small dogs. Remel led the way, her heightened mer senses protecting them. With every skeever they fought they grew more tired. By the time they reached the nest, Remel was exhausted, her arms sagging. Her dagger was coated with skeever venom and drying black blood, and she had a single long scratch on her arm from one particularly large rat's teeth. Luckily her bosmer blood protected her from disease, but the wound still ached, and she was losing blood.

They reached a large open cavern, and Remel backed against the wall, drawing Rune with her. "I think this is it," she whispered, voice low. "Are you ready?"

"No," he answered honestly. "But we don't have a choice, do we?"

Remel sighed and turned back to the cave. Slowly, dagger at the ready, she slipped around the corner and crept through the shadows.

Without warning, three massive skeevers flew towards her. She let out a curse and blocked one with her dagger, leaving a long cut along the skeever's side. It barely slowed down, and she didn't have a chance to finish it, busy as she was with the other two.

Beyond her small scope, she heard a shout, and then a small explosion. "Rune!" She cried, but couldn't look away; she managed to stab one of the skeevers, but the other two surrounded her. She kicked out; the skeever by her foot avoided the blow and leapt, attaching itself to her thigh. She let out a scream and brought down her dagger, severing the thing's head from its body. One more to go. She backed against the wall as the skeever crept toward her, its red eyes darting back and forth. Venom dripped from its open mouth and her stomach turned over. The thing darted to one side and then lunged, and Remel threw up her dagger, barely stopping it in time.

Another explosion sounded near her, shaking the cave, and Remel tossed the skeever aside, sprinting toward the sound.

Rune was locked in combat with a strange man, shirtless with greasy shoulder-length gray hair. He wielded magic in both hands; one launched fireballs which exploded on impact, and the other was constantly healing himself. Rune held his own, but he was flagging, Remel could tell. He leapt to the side and rolled to avoid another fireball, and Remel realized that he was bleeding from a gash on the side of his face.

She didn't have time to think; she simply lunged forward, sprinting toward the mage. Hearing her, the mage turned around and prepared another fireball. She realized the stupidity in her plan—or lack of one—but it was too late; the mage drew back his hand, ready to burn her to a crisp, and then stopped. The magic faded from his hands, and the light from his eyes, and Remel realized that a steel dagger tip protruded from his chest.

The mage collapsed, and Remel realized she was gasping. She leapt toward Rune, who now held only a single dagger, the other one being embedded in the mage's back.

"Are you all right? Are you all right?" She was gasping, barely tucking her knife away before her hands found Rune's face. His eyes were unfocused, and the wound was gushing blood. The edges of it were jagged and tinged green, and Remel felt a jolt of fear go through her.

She gently guided him to the ground and pulled her pack off, rifling through it for the antidotes she and Arcadia had brewed that morning. She uncorked one with trembling hands and poured half of it over the cut on Rune's face. It glowed faintly against the blood-red gash. Remel quickly pulled out the tundra cotton she'd gathered on the way there and stuffed the wound. The cotton was very absorbent, as Arcadia had said; as it slowly turned red, she wrapped bandages around his head and secured them there. Finally Rune's eyes seemed to focus on her. "Remel?"

"How are you feeling?" She said, not stopping her work. "How did you get this?"

"Mm...skeever," he said, seeming confident. As he shifted one arm, he winced, and Remel quickly turned her attention there. A nasty burn covered almost all of his left arm; Remel let out an exasperated noise and pulled out another potion.

It was almost fifteen minutes before she was confident she'd addressed all his wounds, but Rune was in no state to be sneaking around the brewery. She sighed and stood, pouring half the rat poison onto the hay stack that seemed to be their home. Her gaze roved over the nest; a table rested against the wall, holding an alchemy set, a number of potions, and a small leather-bound journal. Curious, Remel grabbed the journal and brought it back over to Rune.

"You have to stay here," she said quietly. "You're in no state to go up to the brewery with me. I'll poison the mead and be back for you as soon as I can. Here." She left two healing potions next to him, and one which would help his strength. "Drink these if you need. I shouldn't be long. If you need me, yell."

She had never felt such urgency as she flew up the tunnels toward the brewery. A few more skeevers stood in her way, but she dispatched them quickly. The massive vat of mead stood open and inviting, and she dumped the rest of the rat poison in it, tucked the empty bottle in her pack, and flew back down the tunnel to the nest.

Rune was sitting exactly where she left him, holding the mage's journal in his hands. His face wasn't quite so pale, and Remel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Find anything interesting?" She said, going for a playful tone.

"He was truly a madman," Rune said by way of response. "Thought he could take over the world using skeevers." He shrugged. "I wish he hadn't been so close to right."

Remel rolled her eyes and shoved the journal in her pack. Rune had drank two of the potions, so she left the empty bottles there and thrust the full one into his hand. "Come on, we've got to go." She tugged his arm over her shoulders and helped him stand; he was heavy, but she was strong. Together, they limped back the way they had come.

By the time they reached the Meadery, Remel was panting from carrying both of them. Rune's face had gone back to pale, and he was bleeding through the bandages. She set him gently in a chair and went to speak with Sabjorn.

Mallus sat in the corner, eyes hooded, and Sabjorn stood behind the counter, fiddling nervously with an empty tankard; a man dressed in armor, likely the guard captain, waited with crossed arms at the bar.

As soon as Sabjorn saw Remel, he jumped up. "Ah, perfect. Mallus, be a good lad and fetch the reserve, would you?"

Mallus grumbled, but stood up and slipped out the door. Remel took the opportunity to step up to Sabjorn and hold out her hand.

"The payment now, if you please," she said, and her voice was like ice.

"Not until after the tasting," Sabjorn snapped, but Remel drew herself up to her full height—all five feet of it—and glared.

"My partner could have died," she growled. "I'll take the payment, and I'll take it now."

Sabjorn went pale and drew a coin purse from under the bar. "Here. Now go stand over there." She took the heavy purse and retreated to stand in the corner as Mallus returned, lugging a heavy keg of ale.

Sabjorn relaxed. "Ah, finally. Thank you for waiting, good sir." He cracked open the keg and poured out a sample of mead. "This is my finest brew yet; I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I hope you like it."

The captain said nothing, only grabbed the tankard and took a swig. Remel waited with bated breath as he drained the tankard.

Then his face went pale, almost green, and he drew his sword. "You lying piece of dirt!" He snapped, leaning over the bar and grabbing Sabjorn's collar. "You promised this place was clean!"

"It is," Sabjorn said, fearful. "I swear, it is—"

"Swear it to the prison guards." The captain hauled him around and frog-marched him out the door.

Remel stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as she watched this play out. As soon as the Meadery door shut, Mallus let out a raucous laugh.

"I'll never forget the look on his face," he said, still chuckling.

"I'm glad you think this is funny," Remel said, her voice cold, and Mallus went quiet.

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't think you'd mention the madman living in the tunnels?"

Mallus looked sheepish. "Well, I didn't want to give you a reason to back out."

"We could have died. Rune almost died. We could have at least prepared better if we knew what we were up against." She got up in Mallus's face, hazel eyes blazing. "You owe me, big time."

"Fine," Mallus said, backing up, his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry, okay? I should have told you. Here." He fished around in his pocket and handed her a key. " This goes to Sabjorn's private study. Look around and take whatever you want. Maven wants anything about Sabjorn's investors, but I know he keeps a bit of gold and some treasure in there too. Help yourself."

He stepped away from Remel once more. "And if you need anything fenced, you can bring it to me," he added.

Remel huffed, but settled down. "Fine. But I haven't forgiven you."

"I don't expect you to."

She turned away, and that was that. Leaving Rune sitting against the wall, she climbed the stairs to Sabjorn's private study and stuffed her pack with anything valuable-looking. Then she rifled through his desk; with no way of knowing what was important and what wasn't, she took anything with writing on it, leaving only the business ledger.

Her pack was heavy when she finally descended the steps and helped Rune to his feet. "Come on, then," she said softly. "Time for you to get some rest."


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N Sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted to get it out so I can work on the next one. The next one should be coming soon!_**

Remel had trouble concealing her frustration as they made their way back to Whiterun, Rune leaning heavily on her for support. That Mallus would send them in against an absolute madman, with no more than a vague warning? It was horrid. She barely registered the innkeeper's greeting when they strode through the common room and up the stairs.

Rune was groggy, from the wound and from blood loss; he collapsed on the bed the moment he saw it and let out a loud groan. Remel moved around the room quietly, organizing her things and silently fuming. It only added to her bad mood, but she didn't care.

"Hey," Rune slurred, and Remel glanced up to see him sitting up in the bed, a hand pressed tightly to the wound in his head.

She hurried toward him and pushed him back toward the pillows. "You should be sleeping," she scolded. "You need to recover your strength."

"I just...wanted to say thank you," he mumbled, and Remel paused. "For standing up to Mallus. But that's just the way it is in this business. People lie to you, set you up, betray you...it's what we get for working with thieves."

"I would never," Remel began, and trailed off. Would she? If there was no other way? She glanced at Rune's guild tattoo, stark against his pale skin. When she'd first seen it, she'd immediately wanted one, something to mark her as part of the group, to tell everyone that she was included, protected, noticed. Now she wasn't so sure. Was she going to be a thief for the rest of her life? Glover Mallory had only intended for her to stay with the Guild until she got back on her feet.

"Remel," Rune said, more clearly this time, and it jolted Remel out of her musing.

"What?"

"Um." He paused, and a blush colored his cheeks. His eyes glittered with something that could have been emotion or fever. "When you were yelling at him...I realized I," he paused again and his blush grew. "I have feelings for you. I have since I first saw you, and since you've grown so much more confident, so much stronger, I just..."

Remel was frozen, her arms wrapped around herself, thoughts whirling through her head at lightning speed. "I can't," she managed to choke, cutting off memories of hands and grins and pain—

"You know what I've been through..."

"I know," he hurried to say. "I know you're hurting. You're still recovering. This changes nothing, I promise." His eyes were wide, honest. "But I...I love you, Remel. That won't change, no matter how long it takes you to get better, even if it takes you years. I want to be here for you. I want to help you. Please let me help you."

He didn't move, didn't reach toward her, but Remel suddenly felt suffocated. She grabbed her cloak and stumbled toward the stairs. "I need some air," she gasped, and fled.

Standing on the city wall, looking out over the darkened plains, Remel wondered exactly what she was so afraid of.

Rune had never been anything but kind to her. He was helpful, funny, and sweet. He knew her, her body language, expressions, thoughts—he could read her like an open book. And he knew her past, and the sickness in her mind because of it, and still he wanted her—no, loved her.

How? How could he love her? She was broken, ruined. Ever since she left Solstheim, she'd been trying to pick up the pieces and stick them back together, but the result was a precarious stack of sharp fragments that blew over at a breath of wind. In three months, that was all she had accomplished. How long would it take to really, truly heal? Would she ever truly heal?

Her thoughts continued to billow and swirl, spinning around and around until her stomach hurt. The stars told her it was almost midnight, and so finally she gathered her cloak around her and made her way back into the Bannered Mare. Rune was asleep on the bed; instead of joining him, Remel huddled on the floor, wrapped up in her warm wolfskin cloak. It felt like hours before she could sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Remel's eyes drooped with exhaustion the next morning, and her head was full of fuzz. Even if she had any desire to talk with Rune about the events of last night, she didn't have the coherency for it. So they packed up in awkward silence, collecting the impressive amount of stuff they'd accrued during their short stay. Rune looked much better; the swelling around his wounds had gone down, and his pallor was bright, almost healthy. He still winced whenever something brushed his face or arm, but he was recovering quickly, to Remel's relief.

She took the coin purse out to the market and gathered enough food for the short journey back to Riften, and by the time she got back, they were ready to go.

She thanked the innkeeper on their way down to the stables. The carriage driver was absent, but a few workers loaded supplies into the back, and the guard, a burly redguard, stood cross-armed by the front of it.

"Um," Remel began, making a tremendous effort to pull her thoughts together. "Where are you headed? We're hoping for passage to Riften."

The redguard met her tired gaze with sharp brown eyes and said nothing for so long that Remel wondered if he'd even heard her. "South," he finally answered. "To Falkreath, then west. But you could tag along to Helgen, then go through the pass."

Remel sighed and exchanged a glance with Rune, who shrugged. She nodded. "Thank you. When do we leave?"

"Now," said a new voice, and Remel turned to see a burly nord. He smiled at them. "Hop in. I'll take the payment when we get there."

The road to Helgen was short, but Remel managed to snatch a few hours of sleep. After the driver dropped them off and Remel paid, they didn't stop in the city, but instead headed straight for the mountain pass. It was cold up there, despite the noonday sun that shone brightly against the snow, and Remel was shivering violently by the time they emerged on the other side.

"We could stop for the night," Rune offered. She glanced up at him; he was faring well, even better than Remel, despite the wounds covering his body. She shrugged noncommittally and kept moving, trying to work some warmth into her tired, sluggish limbs.

"Remel," Rune insisted, catching up to her easily. "I'm..." he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to startle you, or whatever. I just...I guess I was scared, from the injury...that something bad would happen to me, and you'd never know how I felt."

She didn't answer for a long moment. The only sound was the steady clomp of Rune's shoes on the frosty road. As a heavy cloud drifted across the sinking sun, she let out a sigh.

"It's not your fault," she said softly. "I just...I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready."

"I know," he responded, and Remel finally met his gaze. All she saw was love and kindness, and her heart broke all over again. He deserves someone who can love him back, she thought desperately. Someone who will make him happy.

But she didn't voice those thoughts, because at that moment the roof of a tiny hut appeared over the ridge.

"Look!" She pointed. "Maybe we can stay there for the night."

Rune graciously accepted her change in subject and nodded. "Unless it's infested with skeevers, that is."

Remel shuddered. "I never want to see another skeever in my life," she said earnestly, and Rune chuckled. Some of the tension between them disappeared.

They stayed in the hut that night, which turned out to be abandoned, though its resident had left a number of rare alchemical ingredients behind, which Remel snatched up without remorse. They woke early the next day, and walked without stopping, but it was still well past dark when they reached Riften.

"I'd better go see Mercer," Remel sighed, her stomach turning over. She had only ever spoken with the Guild Master once, when she first arrived, exhausted and broken. He hadn't wanted to take her in, but Brynjolf changed his mind. Ever since, she avoided the brooding imperial like the plague.

"Here." Rune pulled out the promissory note, the one thing of value he'd found in the dozens of papers Remel had collected. It bore a strange symbol at the top, a downward-pointing dagger surrounded by darkness, which he believed was significant. "I need to see Vex about these other jobs, but I'll meet you after?" He phrased it as a question.

Remel nodded noncommittally and took the note. "See you."

She hurried past him, sliding down the wooden ladder into the cistern and scurrying away. The cistern was quiet; most everyone was asleep. On quiet feet, she followed the sounds of exertion into the training room, where Mercer Frey spun, leapt, and twisted around his great dwarven sword in a dizzying display of prowess. She hunched by the wall, waiting for him to come to a stopping point, unsure if he'd welcome an interruption; a moment later, he spun toward her and stopped, the sharp edge of the sword inches away from her throat.

Remel fought the urge to back away, holding in her trembling through sheer will. It was dangerous to show fear in front of Mercer Frey. He wasn't just a thief and a warrior, he was a predator; the dark aura of violence radiated from him, seeping into Remel's clothes and brushing against her skin. She didn't know how the others couldn't see it.

Or maybe they could, and they chose to ignore it.

After a few frozen moments, Mercer tucked his sword into his belt and stretched. He was hardly even breathing hard from the exercise. "Back so soon, little elf?"

Ignoring the shivers down her back, Remel held out the note. "We found this in the office at Honningbrew," she said, keeping her voice low to mask the tremors. "I thought that symbol must be important. Have you seen it before?"

Mercer snatched the paper and examined it, a slight tightening at the corner of his eyes the only reaction. "Yes. I have." He crumpled up the note and stuck it in his pocket, staring over Remel's shoulder for a moment. "I need to think about this." His eyes snapped back to her face. "Maven wants to see you, urgently." He took a step toward her and Remel fought the instinct to recoil. He leaned in, hot breath brushing her cheek. "I wouldn't keep her waiting, if I were you."

Without another word, he brushed past her and disappeared into the shadows of the cistern.

Remel waited until she was sure he was gone before letting out a shay breath. What a lump of slime, she thought viciously. How had he ever become Guild Master?

No matter. She shook off her exhaustion and headed back out into Riften. He was right about one thing: keeping Maven Black-Briar waiting was a very poor decision.

Black-Briar Manor wasn't far, just past the Temple of Mara. Remel raised her hand to knock on the door, but it swung open on creaky hinges before she could. Maul's hard, scar-covered face peered out at her and broke into a smile.

"Welcome back, little elf," he said in his deep, menacing voice, but somehow it sounded so much kinder when he said it. He opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for her to come in. "Maven is still up. Wait here; I'll fetch her."

Remel headed into the entry hall and took a seat in one of the corner chairs. She fought down a yawn; it must be nearing midnight. Her head drooped to her chest, and her eyes drifted closed.

A moment later Maul was shaking her shoulder. She sat up and wagged her head blearily. "Hmm?"

"Come on. Maven's ready to meet with you."

She stifled another yawn and trailed Maul down a hallway, up some stairs, and around a corner. Maven sat imperiously at a long desk. Her eyes snapped up when they entered. "Thank you, Maul. That will be all."

The bodyguard nodded and backed out of the room, though Remel knew he lingered nearby.

Any of her remaining sleepiness fled at the sight of Maven's calculating stare. Remel shifted uncomfortably, noticing that Maven didn't offer her a seat.

"I need to know about these...friends of yours," she said, voice soft but heavy with meaning. "The Dunmer. I need to know everything. How many, who they are, what they are like. If I am to move forward—" she stopped herself, and took a breath. "Tell me everything. What is their leader like, this...Vilkaleth, is it?"

Remel felt a tremble starting in her hands. She tried to squash it down. "He is..." she began, and paused. "He killed my father in cold blood, and seized leadership of Nchardak. As far as I know, his whole friendship with my father was a lie, a trick to get closer to him so he could—" her breath caught, and she had to stop for a moment. Maven's eyes narrowed, and she gestured for Remel to go on.

Before she could speak any further, footsteps sounded in the hall; Maul exchanged words with another man, his voice indistinguishable. Then he appeared at the door, throwing an apologetic look at Maven and a concerned one at Remel.

"Brynjolf is here," he said, and disappeared again.

Maven let out an exasperated sigh. "What do you want, you great oaf?"

Brynjolf stood in the doorway. He was short for a nord, but Remel had never thought that diminished his presence; in fact, he seemed to loom tall, larger than life, despite his stature. Especially now, with a glower fixed on his face. He moved closer to Remel, his stance protective.

"I told you not to speak with her without me," Brynjolf hissed, and Remel realized it was directed at Maven. "You know nothing about what she has been through."

"Brynjolf—" Remel protested softly, but he didn't even look at her, and she fell silent.

"Come now. The elf and I were just having a friendly chat," Maven insisted, but her voice dripped venom. Surely you aren't insinuating that her...feelings"—she said the word like it was a nasty disease—"are more important than this potential business venture."

"A business venture with Reavers is already a lost cause," he scoffed. "I thought—all of Riften thought you'd be smarter than that."

Maven didn't reply for a moment, and Remel realized that the woman was shocked silent. Brynjolf didn't give her a chance to reply. Instead, he took Remel by the shoulder and gently steered her toward the door. "Come on, little elf. You need to get some rest."

Remel didn't argue. As they left the room, she threw one more glance at Maven; the woman was sitting stock still, a furious look on her face.

She shivered and turned away.


	13. Chapter 13

Remel kept her ears open over the next few days, listening for news of whatever deal it was that Maven wanted to make with the Reavers. But the rat way was conspicuously quiet, word of her and Rune's success the only big news.

One evening, just before Remel was headed to bed, Mercer stopped her at his desk. She paused nervously, wondering what he could possibly want.

"I have a job for you," he said in his scratchy voice, and beckoned her over to her desk, where papers rested haphazardly, covering the whole surface.

"That son a a skeever made a mistake," he said, gesturing to a piece of paper Remel thought was the promissory note from Honningbrew. "This name is an alias for an old contact of mine, Gulem-Ei. He skims off shipments from the East Empire Company and gives us a cut, in return for our support and protection." Mercer's dark eyebrows furrowed. "His tribute has dried up lately, more than it should have, despite the war, and clearly he's taking other work as a broker. I want you to go find him in Solitude, and find out who the buyer is. Oh," he added, glaring up at Remel. "And find out why he's been holding out on us."

Remel crossed her arms against a sudden chill. "All right," she said doubtfully, and the guildmaster looked up at her tone. "I just wonder, why me? Isn't there someone else for the job?"

Mercer stretched his arms over his head with a sigh, then brought them back down to rest on his hips. "You're a great thief," he snapped, and Remel blinked, surprised at such kind words delivered so rudely. "You can get the job done. Take a partner for backup and report to me as soon as you're back."

With that, he went back to his work, and Remel realized she'd been dismissed.

She made her way over to Rune's bunk in a daze. He was still bedridden; the wound on his head was healing poorly. The flesh surrounding it was a faint green color, and it oozed pus and blood, despite the bandages and poultices that Remel and Tonilia kept treating it with. Remel glanced at it with worry, and decided to enlist a mage to help him as soon as she got the payment from the new job.

"Did you hear any of that?" She said in a low voice, scooting him over and settling on the bed next to him.

"Nope," Rune grumbled. "Talk louder next time."

"It was mostly him doing the talking," she sighed. "I have to go to Solitude."

Rune straightened, wincing a bit at the pain. "When do we leave?"

Remel chuckled and pushed him back against his pillow, gently, careful not to disrupt his bandages. "You aren't going anywhere," she said sternly. "Not for another few weeks, if I have anything to say about it."

Rune pouted, but surprisingly dropped the argument. Remel fell silent and felt his forehead; he was burning up. "I'm going to make you some tea," she decided, and headed over to the kitchen area.

As the water heated, she poked her head into the training room, hearing the sounds of exertion. Vipir and Thrynn dueled, Thrynn with a sword, Vipir with a pair of wicked daggers. At first she thought they were evenly matched; Thrynn was clearly much stronger and more skilled, but Vipir was quick as a cat, weaving around and between his blows almost effortlessly.

But soon Thrynn managed to anticipate Vipir's moves, and swiped his blade out directly into Vipir's path. Vipir managed to block it, but the force of the blow made him stumble. Thrynn disarmed him in seconds and the fight was over.

Remel narrowed her eyes in thought.

"Come for some training, little elf?" Thrynn chuckled, and Remel blushed to be caught gaping.

"Actually," she blurted, to allay the awkwardness, "I had a favor to ask you."

"Me?" Thrynn said, pointing to himself, as though wondering what he could possibly do for her.

"Yes." She straightened and folded her hands behind her back. "Would you come with me to Solitude? The guildmaster gave me a job, but I'm to take a partner as backup. I know you are skilled..." she gestured to the site of their duel. "But if you don't want to, please tell me. I wouldn't want to pressure you into it."

Thrynn's craggy, scarred face broke into a radiant smile. "I'd be honored," he said formally. "I can be ready in moments."

"Oh, no," Remel said quickly. "I just now learned of the job. I'll need a few days to get ready."

Thrynn looked sheepish. "Right, of course."

The carriage Rune and Remel had ridden to Whiterun wasn't due to return for another few weeks, so they walked. Along the way, Thrynn taught Remel to hold her bow properly and had to begin to shoot at targets along the road—trees, bushes, oddly colored patches of dirt. It took some getting used to, and after just half an hour her arms were aching, but soon she could consistently hit her target, with varying amounts of force. It wasn't great, but it was a start. Thrynn said she was a natural.

As they moved further north, it grew cold. Remel was glad for her wolfskin cloak, which kept her warm and dry. Thrynn, a nord, wore only his iron armor and a light leather cape, and seemed perfectly happy.

They met no opposition on the road, which was a blessing. Their only company was a pack of wolves who ambushed them at one point, but Thrynn made quick work of them, as Remel knocked a single arrow and swung it between the wolves, trying to decide if she wanted to risk hitting her partner or not. She didn't. Luckily, he didn't need her help.

Finally they arrived in Solitude. Over the sea, with the mountain shielding it to the north, the city was quite temperate, a welcome change from the autumn cold fronts they'd come through. Tonilia had furnished her with plenty of gold, again, but when Remel entered the inn and asked the innkeeper for rooms, he named a price so high that she spluttered.

"For a single night?"

"Hey, I run an upstanding establishment," the innkeeper said grouchily. "Got to feed myself somehow. So many folks come in for one drink and stay all night, driving out the paying customers. So yeah, that's what I'm chargin'."

Remel sighed and was about to pay when she remembered the little farm and stables she'd spotted on the way in. She withdrew her coin purse with a glare. "I think I'll take my custom elsewhere," she said haughtily.

"There is no where else," the innkeeper called after her, but Remel ignored him and went back outside to where Thrynn was waiting, oblivious to the chill night wind.

"Price is too high," she said glumly, and Thrynn shrugged. "We can sleep outside the walls. I've done it before."

"My thoughts exactly," Remel agreed.

The woman who owned the farm agreed to let them stay for just a handful of gold and the promise of a story, even throwing in a bowl of soup and a hunk of fresh bread for each of them. Remel listened, eating her soup, while Thrynn told the tale of one of his many exploits as a bandit. He didn't phrase it that way, of course, making himself seem the good guy and his "enemies"—who Remel distinctly remembered as the city guard—as a group of wild forsworn. Despite the embellishments, Katla and her husband seemed to enjoy the story, and even offered them second scoops of soup


	14. Chapter 14

Remel awoke before sunrise the next morning, chilled. The fire they'd lit at their feet had gone out, and Remel's sleeping roll was coated with frost.

She launched out of bed, shivering violently, and went about getting the fire going. It took much longer that usual, on account of the fact that her hands weren't really working.

By the time Thrynn awoke, the fire was crackling merrily, and Remel had started a pot of tea and a pan of scrambled eggs. He rose and Remel realized he wore only breeches and an undershirt, but he looked just as warm as ever.

"Put-t-t on a jack-k-ket," she shivered, holding her hands closer to the fire. "You're making me c-c-cold."

The burly ex-bandit chuckled and tossed his jacket around her shoulders instead, instantly lending her warmth. She sighed happily and pulled it tighter around her shoulders.

"So, what's the plan?" He said, poking at the eggs. "You know where to find this guy?"

"Well, no," Remel admitted. "But I'm sure someone will." She swatted Thrynn's hand away and dished him a plate of eggs, which he proceeded to eat with his fingers. Remel grimaced and grabbed a fork from her pack. "I noticed a market just a little ways from the inn. The stall owners should know something. If not, we can try the innkeeper again."

In truth, it took longer than anticipated to find the location of the elusive Gulem-Ei. Finally Remel traced him back to the Winking Skeever. The innkeeper glared at her when she entered, Thrynn looming over her shoulder, but she ignored him and focused her attention on the scrawny Argonian tucked in a corner booth.

"I've been looking for you, _Gajul-Lei_ ," Remel said, crossing her arms and trying to look imposing. The Argonian looked her over and sneered, then looked at Thrynn and wiped the smile from his face.

"What can you people possibly want from me? I told Mercer I won't deal with him anymore."

"We need to know about a piece of land that you brokered, Goldenglow Estate. Who was the buyer?"

He chuckled. "Now, now, I don't give that information out. Privacy is sort of important in this line of work."

Remel stood a bit taller. "We're running out of time," she snapped. "Tell us who it was, or it's going to hurt."

His eyes got a little wider and he gulped. "You can't kill me," he said, voice quivering with uncertainty. "I'm the only one who knows that information."

"I never said kill," Remel said, injecting as much venom into her voice as she could muster. Behind her, she heard Thrynn crack his knuckles.

"Okay, all right, I'll tell you!" He seemed to shrink back in his seat. "The buyer was a woman with a big bag of gold. She never told me her name. All she said was I could have a share of it if I would broker the deal. That's it!"

Remel gestured for Thrynn to take a step back. "You better be telling the truth," she warned, and turned away.

As soon as they got out of the Winking Skeever, Thrynn gave Remel a concerned look. "You don't really think that's all he knows, do you?"

"No," Remel said glumly. "But I don't think he's going to talk. We don't have anything to hold against him."

She sighed and glanced around, spotting a flat part of the roof of the inn. She pointed. "Let's get up there and wait to see if he goes anywhere."

They trailed the argonian to the East Empire warehouse, and Remel broke through the door while Thrynn distracted the guards. Sneaking by the guards who roamed the halls of the warehouse was no easy feat, but working together, Thrynn and Remel managed to trail Gulem-Ei through the shelves piled high with goods and through a small cave, into a larger cavern that led deep into the mountain below Solitude.

"Great," Thrynn whispered as they gazed into the cave. A few ruffians sat around a fire, chatting, and Gulem-Ei was nowhere to be found. "What do you say? Sneak by? We'd have to go in the water. Or—" he gestured to the bow on Remel's back. "You can give that pigsticker a try."

Remel gazed at the bandits for a while. The last time she'd killed a man, she'd been sick to her stomach for days, even though that man had tried to kill her. But they needed information from Gulem-Ei. Just talking to him wouldn't do it. They needed a show of force, to prove that they meant business.

With a quiet sigh, Remel drew her bow and carefully knocked an arrow.

"You got it," Thrynn said encouragingly. "Remember to breathe deep before you shoot."

She did as he said, took a deep breath, and released the arrow.

It flew directly through the first ruffian's throat, and he toppled over with no more that a quiet gurgle.

"Nice," Thrynn whispered.

The other bandits reacted instantly, drawing weapons and shields and heading toward their location with angry shouts. Remel panicked and knocked another arrow, letting it fly without aiming so carefully; it went wide and splashed into the water, as one of Thrynn's bolts took a bandit in the thigh.

"Breathe," Thrynn said, and knocked another arrow.

Remel did as he said and followed suit. Another steel-tipped shaft drove directly into the remaining bandit's heart, leaving just the one Thrynn had shot; he ended them quickly with a well-placed shot to the chest.

Remel's heart pounded and her legs shook like jelly as she realized that they'd done it—the first fight, at least. She looked at Thrynn and smiled. "Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?" He whispered back.

Remel began creeping forward, holding her bow at the ready, as she tossed back, "for the advice, dummy."

Thrynn chuckled.

They made their way through the rest of the cavern like that. Only once did Thrynn have to sheath his bow and draw a pair of swords, charging at the bandits with a ferocious cry, as they got too close to Remel's hidden sniping spot.

The cavern opened up into a large, spacious cave, packed with goods and guarded by a half-dozen of bandits. Remel nudged Thrynn and pointed to Gulem-Ei, conversing with the man who must have been the leader, evidenced by his higher grade armor. Thrynn nodded and slipped a little closer.

"I can handle the big guy," he whispered, "as long as you can cover me and keep the others from interfering. Do you think you can do that?"

Remel took a deep breath. She'd only been training with the bow for a month or so, but she was a natural; Niruin promised it was her Bosmer blood. As long as she could keep her calm and not freeze up, she could easily handle five bandits.

But with Thrynn's life on the line? _How does he trust me so much?_

"Are you sure? He looks like he's got a nasty swing," Remel said, nodding toward the leader, who had a menacing steel mace hanging by his side.

Thrynn chuckled under his breath. "Oh, trust me, little elf. I know what I'm doing."

"All right." She breathed out, trying to calm herself. She glanced around the cavern and spotted a ledge a few dozen feet away. "I'm going up there to get a better angle. Wait for my signal."

Thrynn nodded.

Remel climbed dexterously across to the ledge and perched carefully on the edge, drawing a few arrows and setting them on the rocks beside her. As comfortable as she was going to get, she knocked the first arrow and aimed at the bandit closest to Gulem-Ei and the leader.

Turning to Thrynn, she nodded, and let the arrow fly.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of intense focus. Draw, aim, shoot, draw, aim shoot; Remel dropped the attacking bandits one by one before they could interfere on their chief's behalf. At the first sign of violence, Gulem-Ei had retreated to a corner, and now he cowered there with his hands over his head. Remel ignored him, her gaze roaming over the bandits on the floor, looking for signs of movement. There were none. She'd done her job well.

She began to slip carefully down from the ledge, trying not to distract Thrynn as he circled the bandit chief. They both looked a little ragged, but the chief was much worse for wear; his armor was torn and bloodied in places, and the heavy steel was dragging him down. Thrynn, in his light Guild leathers, looked nimble compared to his opponent.

Remel dropped into a crouch about ten feet from them, her bow drawn and an arrow knocked in case she had to interfere, but Thrynn clearly could hold his own.

A few swings later and the bandit made a mistake, lost his footing, and stumbled—

Directly onto the tip of Thrynn's sword.

"I needed that," Thrynn said, wiping the tip of his sword on his breeches and tucking it away. "Been too long since I've had a real duel."

Remel stood from her crouch and emerged from the shadows, stalking toward the spot where Gulem-Ei cowered.

"Is this what you've been doing with the cut you owe the guild? Hiding it down here and treating with petty bandits? You don't deserve to deal with us anymore."

Thrynn drew his sword again and reached the argonian in a few steps, dragging him forward and throwing him onto the ground where he cowered, shaking, on his hands and knees.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, eyes darting between Thrynn and the felled bandit chief with terror. "I—I made a mistake. I see that now. Just don't kill me!"

"Give us the name of the Goldenglow buyer, and then we'll talk." Remel had to cross her arms to hide her heaving chest. Where was this burst of cruel confidence coming from? It would fade soon, and she needed the information from Gulem-Ei before then.

"Karliah, okay? It was Karliah!"

Remel didn't move, but Thrynn gasped audibly and took a stumbling step backward, the tip of his sword dipping dangerously toward Gulem-Ei, who cowered lower with a whimper.

"It can't be," he hissed. Before Remel could say anything to express her confusion, Thrynn hauled Gulem-Ei to his feet and drove the sword toward his chest.

"Wait," Remel murmured, and Thrynn heard her. Miraculously, he stopped, the sword point hovering an inch from Gulem-Ei's heart.

"He knew she was alive, all this time, and didn't think to tell us?"

Remel raised her chin, leveling a stare at Gulem-Ei, but addressing Thrynn. "He sees what happens when he crosses the Guild. I think he knows better than to try it again."

A beat passed as both processed what Remel was saying. Then Thrynn dropped the argonian and stepped back. From his knees, Gulem-Ei gasped a thank-you.

"Don't thank me yet," Remel warned. "You have to make up for what you held from us. It won't be easy."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Gulem-Ei said almost reverently, and Remel felt a flush of discomfort at the treatment.

"Where is Karliah?"

Gulem-Ei scratched his head. "She wouldn't give me a straight answer. All she said was she was going where the end began. I don't know what it means."

"Where the end began," Remel muttered, and rubbed her eyes. "All right. Thank you." She glanced up and saw that both Thrynn and Gulem-Ei were still staring at her. "That's all," she said pointedly to the argonian, who leapt to his feet with another muttered promise and fled.

As soon as he was gone, Remel turned to Thrynn. "Why did you stop?"

"Huh?"

"You were going to kill him, and I told you to wait, and you...did." Remel shuffled awkwardly, realizing how strange the question sounded. "I just mean, we're still equals, right? Or technically, you're my superior, since I'm newer to the Guild. I don't even have my Guild tattoo yet." She nodded toward Thrynn's exposed arm, where the shadow mark of a circle inside a diamond stood in stark contrast to his pale skin.

"It's your mission," Thrynn said with a shrug, heading over to one of the shelves stacked with goods and pawing through them greedily. "Besides, you're a clever girl. I trust your judgment. If you say the slime ball lives, he lives."

"Hmm." Remel rubbed her arms and went to help Thrynn with the treasure.

The mood in the cistern was somber when Remel and Thrynn returned, though their presence coaxed a smile and a welcome back out of one or two thieves. She searched for a familiar grinning face but Rune was asleep; the gash on his head looked mostly healed now, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Remel turned to make a beeline for Mercer's desk, remembering his order to report directly back to him, but paused when she saw he wasn't there. Hoping he was out on business, so she could rest and recover before she had to see him, she looked instead for Brynjolf.

He was seated at the bar in the Flagon, and Remel's heart sank when she saw he was there with Mercer. Gulping, she steeled herself and strode forward.

"Guildmaster, Brynjolf," she said formally. Brynjolf hopped off his stood to greet her with a hug, but paused partway and patted her shoulder instead. Remel felt a rush of gratitude toward the old bear.

Mercer simply grunted. "I have...bad news," Remel began cautiously, looking toward the surly Breton. "We learned who the Goldenglow buyer was. Gulem-Ei said her name was Karliah."

The reaction was instantaneous. Brynjolf staggered back as though he'd been hit, and Mercer let out a long hiss through his teeth, gripping his flagon so hard Remel saw the metal bend.

"No," Mercer snarled, and this time Remel took a step back. She'd never seen such a look of animalistic fury, not since—well, not in a long time. "Not again. I won't let that bitch ruin our Guild again." He turned toward Remel and her heart began to pound, seeing a familiar tightening of his shoulders, but not quickly enough to duck away as Mercer grabbed her arms, holding her with a vice-like grip. "Where is she? Where has she gone?"

"He—he said she—she only said where the end began," Remel gasped. All the confidence she'd gained from the success, from shooting a wolf on the road, from laughing easily with Thrynn all through their travels drained out of her. She felt hollow, scared, like she had that first day, a shell of a girl waiting for someone to help her, to save her.

"Mercer," Brynjolf said, placing a huge hand on the Guildmaster's shoulder, and to her surprise, he let her go and took a step back. His face still looked like it was carved of stone, but was that a flash of remorse in his eyes? It was gone before she had the chance to examine it.

"Go get some rest," Mercer said gruffly. "I'll send Tonilia over with your payment."

Remel could only nod and scurry out of the Flagon.

In the training room, she found calm, of a sort, as her arrows plunged methodically into the targets.

 _Thwack_.

What was wrong with her? Why did she freeze up at even the hint of an aggressive touch?

 _Thwack_.

It was fine for an archer, but if she ever had to fight up close, she wouldn't stand a chance. All they had to do was grab her and she'd be as easy to skewer as a fish on land.

 _Thwack_.

Who was Karliah, anyway? Thrynn wouldn't tell her, saying he wasn't there, he didn't know enough, to get the facts from someone else. Delvin knew better, he said.

 _Thwack_.

Well, Delvin was already deep in his cups, and it'd be hours before he was sober enough to answer her questions.

 _Thwack_.

A foreboding feeling haunted her since she set foot in there today, and whatever it was, Remel knew that whatever happened between Karliah and Mercer so many years ago was at the heart of it.

 _Thwack_.

She wasn't even a full member of the Guild. Did she even need to know? Did she even deserve to know? Maybe all the action would flow around her, like a stream around a boulder, and she wouldn't have to—

"Good shooting, lass."

Remel gasped, tugged unceremoniously out of her thoughts, and swung the bow toward the door. She recognized the tousled red hair and lowered the bow; Brynjolf was smiling, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks," she muttered, broken thoughts still swirling about in her brain.

Brynjolf nodded back out toward the cistern. "Niruin made soup. Care for a bowl while we chat?"

Remel hadn't even realized how hungry she was until he mentioned food, and her stomach growled loudly.

SHe followed him out to the kitchen and settled at the dining table, where a steaming pot of soup rested, surrounded by bowls. Most everyone had already eaten; only Cynric remained at the table, and when Remel and Brynjolf took their seats, he quietly rose and disappeared.

A funny feeling grew in Remel's stomach.

"I have some bad news for you," Brynjolf said once he was sure Remel had eaten a few bites. She realized he'd mimicked her own words, and her heart began to pound.

"Maven decided that she couldn't pursue a business relationship with your—with the Reavers," he said cautiously. "She wants them out of her hair, and out of Skyrim. When the leader refused to go back to Solstheim, she had them thrown in prison. They're set to be executed in two days."

The soup Remel had just eaten threatened to come bubbling back up. She covered her mouth with her hands, spoon clattering onto the table.

Dorei.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm sorry, little elf," Brynjolf said as Remel took deep, gasping breaths, trying to calm herself. "I tried talking to Maven, but she wouldn't listen. She's made up her mind. She wants to send a message, that she's in charge, I guess. She wouldn't tell me more."

Remel closed her eyes and clamped her hands over her face, forcing herself to take a deep, shuddery breath.

"I've got to get him out," she murmured.

Brynjolf looked at her apprehensively. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he warned. "Maven—"

"To Oblivion with Maven!" Remel cried, rising out of her seat, startling even herself. Brynjolf snapped his mouth shut and gazed at her, eyebrows up. She settled slowly back into her seat. "I've got to get him out," she said, voice low and laced with conviction. "He's my oldest and dearest friend. No matter what came between us, I owe it to him to get him out, or die trying."

Brynjolf sighed deeply, a look of hopelessness on his face. "I know," he finally said. "But I can't be involved. If Maven finds out that I knew, it won't go well for the Guild. You'll have to do this on your own."

Remel felt a small part of her relax at that. Brynjolf couldn't help her, but at least he wouldn't stop her.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."

She found Cynric in the training room, showing Rune some mild stretches that wouldn't strain his head wound. Both brightened when they saw her, but their faces fell when they saw her mood. "I need your help," she announced, and Rune straightened.

"Another job?"

"Something like that."

She quickly explained the circumstances, and Cynric grimaced. "I think I see where you're going with this," he said. "I'll help you, Remel, but you have to know that I won't risk getting caught. You know I swore I would never do time again."

"I know." She glanced at Rune, then back to Cynric. "I have—a plan. Of sorts. You remember Molgrom?" She named the thief who's wicked ways had gotten him arrested and kicked out of the Guild during Remel's first week in Riften.

Cynric grimaced. "How could I forget? Nasty son-of-a-skeever. You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"If there's one thing Molgrom's good at, it's causing distractions," Remel continued as though he had never spoken. "I'm going to go talk to him and find out where they're keeping Dorei. I'm going to get him out, whatever it takes." She turned to go, then paused and turned back. "The other two stay in," she warned, and left them standing in shock.

Remel took her bow and her small iron dagger and slipped toward the Flagon, avoiding notice as she turned and entered the Ratway, sewers and tunnels that sprawled beneath the whole city. She generally knew her way around, but had barely scraped the surface of all that the tunnels had to offer.

Which was what she meant to exploit now. Near the docks, the Ratway spilled out into the lake through a sewer pipe. She found that spot with only a few difficulties; the sound of rushing water guided her footsteps. Once there, she turned to a smaller side tunnel, so narrow she might have missed it if she didn't know what she was looking for. _Thanks, Cynric,_ she thought, recalling all his tales of escaping this way. The tunnel twisted and turned for a dozen yards, then opened up into a wide, even tunnel, lit with the glow from two grates set evenly along the top of the right wall.

Taking a deep breath, Remel slid toward the first one, stepping carefully on the damp stone to avoid making a sound.

Instantly she recognized the room as that of the Black-Briar—she forgot which one it was. She spotted his boots at the table and backed up silently, then slipped over to the next grate, but that room was empty.

With a huff, Remel followed the hall to the end, where a ladder led straight down to the next level. She descended quietly and emerged into a hall just like the one above, lit by two even grates. She glanced through the first grate: empty. Remel hurried to the next one, and saw a pair of bare feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

Quietly, quietly, she stepped forward, glanced upward...

Molgrom!

The blond nord was picking apart a piece of bread and dropping the pieces onto the floor, where no doubt the rats would find it. Remel took a deep breath and stepped even closer, pressing her face to the bars.

"Molgrom," she whispered. "I need to talk to you."

The thief gave almost no indication he'd heard her except for a slight tilt of his head. A moment later, a guard in purple livery paced by. As soon as he was out of sight, Molgrom dropped the rest of the bread and crouched next to the grate.

"I remember you," he whispered. "Little Solstheim elf. What could I possibly do for you? Or, rather, what can you do for me?"

Remel grimaced. Molgrom had been kind to her, as far as thieves go, but she didn't expect he'd help her for free. "I can't get you back into the Guild," she warned. "I don't have that kind of sway. No one but Mercer could do that, and I don't think he's planning on it anytime soon.

"But?"

"But I can get you lockpicks," she finished. "Weapons, clothes, a bit of gold. Potions. Maybe some other things, whatever I can scrape together."

Molgrom leaned back onto his heels, eyebrows raised. "And why would you do that?"

She heard scuffing boots and ducked out of sight just as the guard came into view. He banged on the bars. "What are you doing in there, thief?"

"Hunting for rats," Molgrom replied, and Remel could hear the feral smile in his voice. The guard said nothing, and a moment later the footsteps faded.

"Where are the dark elf prisoners being kept?" She said, ducking back into sight.

"Across the way." He nodded behind him. "Two in one room, the leader in the other. Wouldn't tell me what they're in for."

"Maven," Remel grumbled. She straightened as a plan began to form in her mind. "Okay, here's what I need you to do."

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Maramal exclaimed. "What a good way to spread Mara's love, even to those who _some_ might think don't deserve it." He sent a pointed glance to Dinya, who was tapping her foot.

"We can't afford something like that," Dinya exclaimed. "To feed how many prisoners? Half a dozen? We can hardly feed ourselves."

"I think I know someone who would sponsor it," Remel interjected quickly. Her heart pounded; her entire plan depended on the priests agreeing to this.

"Gold isn't a problem, only time is. Some of the prisoners are due to be—" she shuddered involuntarily. "To be executed soon. I just wish they could feel Mara's love before it's too late. Maybe it will help them find salvation." She peered up at Dinya with the most hopeful eyes she could muster.

"Oh, all right," the Dunmer grumbled. "Just this once, I suppose. I'll draw up some plans. You'd better go talk to that sponsor of yours."

Remel clapped her hands and scurried out of the temple. Ducking into the graveyard, she cast her gaze around quickly and slipped through the secret entrance.

Rune was pacing near her bed, looking agitated; Cynric practiced his archery nearby. When she arrived, they both approached her, skeptical looks on their faces.

"I have a plan," she said quietly. "I'm going to need something from each of you. This isn't going to be easy, but we can pull it off."

As Remel listed off her requirements for each of them, Cynric furrowed his brow. "What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Not much, if all goes well," Remel assured him. "I'm not going to risk you getting arrested. Just be there with Rune, and be ready to step in if things go wrong."

She glanced between the two of them; Rune was nodding, but his expression still held some uncertainty. "I hope you know how much this means to me," she said earnestly. "I don't...I don't know what I would do if he was killed."

Remel thought she saw Rune's jaw clench, but it was gone before she could process it, if it was even there at all. He nodded and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "We'll do our part."

Remel resisted the urge to itch her chest again, chafed as it was by the itchy fabric of her robe. Dinya Balu had managed to find her a little something to wear to "fit in", but it was comically large on her, and smelled like it hadn't been washed in a few weeks. She wrinkled her nose and tightened her grip on the heavy iron kettle in her hands.

"Maven's messenger assured us this had been approved." Maramal's light tenor voice carried over the assembled priests and priestesses, and Remel's heart seized. What if the guards didn't let them through? Her thoughts began to spiral. Were Rune and Cynric in place? Did she brew the potion correctly? She shook her arm surreptitiously to make sure the vial was still there, then froze, suddenly worried she would shake it loose prematurely. _Oh, get it together,_ the rational part of her brain groaned. _This worrying isn't helping anything._

 _The complex plans are the most likely to fail,_ she retorted to herself grimly. _And Divines know this plan isn't child's play._

"Fine. In and out in fifteen minutes, or else," the guard grumbled, and a bit of the tension in Remel's heart lifted. She swallowed dryly and followed the priest in front of her into the dungeons. She'd never been in through the front door before; they paraded through the surprisingly spacious guard room and down the stairs, into the large upper floor of the prison.

Maramal positioned himself at the front and center of the upper landing and began to preach, his voice carrying throughout the entire prison. "Listen, dear brothers and sisters, and listen well! Mara has brought you her love, light, and mercy tonight. With each bite of this supper, let her light fill you, and her love spread within you! May your sins wash away, and your worries calm in the wake of her everlasting love!"

As he continued with his speech, Remel glanced toward the nord priest in front of her, who was headed toward the first cell. She angled her body toward the wall and tilted her wrist, deftly sliding the potion vial into her hand. With another quick flick, she popped the cork lid off and into the stew, and the vial's contents followed, a strange-smelling yellowish concoction. Remel quickly slid the vial back up into the band around her wrist and headed toward the cell where she knew Dorei and his counterpart to be.

When she reached the cell, Dorei let out a gasp, so sharp it sounded painful. Remel met his eyes and shook her head slightly. She'd changed her hair and let Tonilia dab makeup on her face, but if the Dunmer recognized her, the jig was up.

"Blessings of Mara upon you, brothers," she murmured demurely, keeping her eyes down. Carefully, she set the cauldron down on a small table by the cell door and served steaming bowls of soup for the two prisoners. Lundras sauntered over to the door. "Mara, eh? Blessings of Sithis is what I need now, _sister_." The hiss with which he said the word took away any semblance of solidarity. He tapped his foot until the guard unlocked his cell, then snatched the bowl from Remel's hands, spilling a few drops of the hot soup onto her delicate fingers. Remel let out a gasp but quickly muffled it, not wanted to draw attention to herself.

She held out the other bowl of soup to Dorei, trying to convey her wish through her eyes. He took the bowl, eyes on hers, but set it aside almost immediately as the guard locked the cell door back up. Remel shook her head again, eyes, wide, but he didn't seem to understand, just pressed his body closer to the bars.

"Mara wishes you to eat well tonight, sirs," she said quickly, desperate for Dorei to understand.

Finally, his eyes lit with comprehension, and he took up the soup and began to eat.

Relieved, Remel picked up her pot and turned around, searching for Molgrom's cell.

He leaned against his door, arms crossed, his face fixed in a mostly blank, slightly sneering expression.

"Little elf," he called, his accent causing the "l"s to roll pleasantly. "I'd like to sample some of Mara's love, if you don't mind."

Remel felt her cheeks flush and quickly reminded herself that this was all part of the plan. The nord priest threw her a glance, expression doubtful. "I can serve that one, if you want," he offered. "He's supposed to be a fiesty one."

She shook her head with a nervous smile. "I don't mind," she said, apalled that her voice came out more as a squeak. "Will you check downstairs? I don't think they've been served yet."

He nodded and headed to the corridor that led down the winding stairs, and Remel sidled closer to Molgrom's cell. She ladled a bowl of soup and held it with trembling hands as the guard unlocked Molgrom's door.

"Blessings of Mara upon-" She didn't have a chance to finish, because Molgrom reached out with hands quick as vipers and grabbed her arms, dragging her toward him and pressing a shiv against her neck. Remel gasped, heart pounding, as the sharp tip dug into her soft skin.

"Hey!" The guard shouted, and others came running, but none dared make a move with Remel's life at risk.

"Here's what's going to happen here," he breathed against her neck. "You're going to call off the dogs. They're going to clear the way to the city gates, and I'm going to leave. Any harm that comes to me-" his grip tightened and the shiv dug deeper into Remel's throat. Something warm trickled down her skin. She gasped. "Comes to you too."

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, okay. Please don't hurt me."

"That depends on our friends here, doesn't it?"

Remel tried to swallow past the fear in her throat. Knowing it was staged did nothing to calm her racing heart. Besides, Molgrom seemed a bit...overenthusiastic about his role. "Please let him go," she begged to the guards. "Just...let him go."

They glanced at each other, but finally one, the jailor, took a step back and loosened the grip on his sword. The others followed his lead doubtfully.

Molgrom stepped out of the cell, holding Remel directly in front of him, like a shield. His vice-like grip kept her upright. There was no way for the guards to intervene. Remel realized Maramal had stopped preaching, and as she glanced around she noticed all movement had stopped. All eyes fixed on her. She swallowed again.

"That's right," Molgrom purred. He moved with his back to the wall, slowly, no sudden movements. They reached the door to the guards' room, and Molgrom glanced inside. "Out," he barked.

"No-" one of the guards tried to protest.

Remel let out a strangled cry as the shiv dug beneath her skin again, and the guards ran to obey Molgrom's order.

They moved through the guards' room more quickly, then up the hallway. Molgrom kicked open the door and glanced out; it was dark. The door was unguarded. Its guard must have come running when he heard the commotion. Molgrom slipped through quickly, pulling Remel with him.

She allowed herself a breath when the door slammed behind her, but Molgrom didn't agree. He tightened his grip on her arm and tugged, and then she was running with him as they fled for the city gates. It was just moments away, but as they turned the corner, the prison door slammed open behind them and footsteps flooded out after them.

"Hurry," Molgrom snarled, and Remel found a burst of energy, enough to keep up with the nord. Months in prison didn't seem to have taken their toll on him; he was hardly breathing fast when they passed through the city gates and fled into the surrounding woods.

It was a good ten minutes before Molgrom loosened his grip on Remel's arm and they slowed. She took in great, gulping breaths of air, embarrassed to notice that Molgrom was only lightly winded. "What kind of training program did you have in there?" she said breathlessly, and Molgrom laughed, a big booming laugh. Before she realized what was happening, he swept her up into an enthusiastic hug. Remel tensed. He spun her around and then set her back on her feet. She looked up into his grinning face.

"What was that for?"

"I live for a good jailbreak," he chuckled, and Remel blinked, then began to laugh too.

In the distance, she heard shouting. That shut her up.

"You have to go," she hissed, and pressed a key into his hand. "Under the third sycamore south of the Goldenglow bridge, you'll find a chest with all the supplies I could find, and enough gold to keep you fed until you find your place somewhere new. Brynjolf says any hold is open to you except here." She met his hazel eyes in the darkness. "Thank you."

Molgrom took the key and grinned. "No, thank _you_ , little elf." With speed so fast she could hardly follow, he grabbed her face in his hands and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "For luck," he whispered, and then he was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, members of the Riften Guard found her huddled under a tree, her robes strategically ripped and dirt rubbed into all the right places.

"Oh, thank the Divines," she whispered, gazing up at them, cheeks streaked with tears. "I thought you'd never find me. I thought I might die out here."

"We wouldn't let that happen," the guard said firmly. "Where is the criminal?"

Remel wiped her face and shrugged. "He went that way," she said, pointing in a random direction. "He said...He said some words I can't repeat, and laughed, and then ran off." She let her eyes crinkle and her mouth pull downwards, as thought she might cry again. "Please, just take me home," she whispered.

The guard melted, and gently picked her up off the ground. "Come on, then." Then, more to himself-"The other one's higher priority anyway."

Remel buried her face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see her grin.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everyone! Sorry I have not updated this story in so long. I just lost interest in it for a while and also had a lot of other things going on. But I have a lot of free time right now, and since I have the rest of the story planned out I am going to try to finish it with updates regularly! Thank you if you are still reading this, and I hope you like the new chapter! Please let me know what you think :)**

* * *

Remel wanted nothing more than to find Rune and Cynric and ensure that they'd completed their part of the plan, but Dinya and Maramal insisted that she stay in the Temple that night to recover from her "ordeal". Dinya's matronly side emerged with a fervor; she plopped Remel into the spare room and ordered her to stay put, returning a few minutes later with a wash basin filled with steaming water, a fluffy towel, and a warm night robe.

"Get yourself cleaned up," Dinya said, patting Remel on the shoulder. "I'll put the kettle on for tea, and there's a little bit of soup left if you're hungry."

"Thank you," Remel said with a demure smile, forcing down her urgency. Dinya couldn't know why she was so desperate to leave.

She cleaned herself up and had some soup and tea, and then retired to sleep, claiming exhaustion—which was true. But even so, it was late at night when she finally drifted off to sleep, mind whirring, hoping that Cynric and Rune and Dorei were all right.

She woke early the next morning and hurried through a simple breakfast with Maramal. "You're welcome to stay another night," he said kindly.

Remel shook her head. "Really, I'm all right," she insisted. "Thank you for your kindness. I know the Temple is open to me, but I hate to intrude more than I need to."

"Well, all right." Maramal sighed and sipped his tea.

Remel knew he worried about her—they all did. For all they knew, she slept in the Ratway beneath the city, with the other beggars and downtrodden. Little did they know that she had a warm bed and a loving family down there too.

Finally, Remel was able to slip away. She gathered her things, said her thank-you and goodbye, and hurried out of the Temple and down to the Cistern.

Rune saw her come in and hurried to meet her.

"Remel! You're okay! How did it go with Molgrom?"

"Fine—he's long gone," she said distractedly. "What about Dorei? Did you get him out?"

"Yes, he's fine. He's in the warrens, with Cynric. Your potion worked perfectly—they were all dead asleep in minutes. It was a walk in the park to get Dorei out."

Remel felt some of the tension leave her chest, and she relaxed, wrapping her arms tightly around Rune. "Thank you," she breathed. "And the others?"

"They were executed early this morning, in the prison. Maven was going to make a scene of it, but she couldn't after one of them escaped right under her nose. It was a quiet affair, instead."

Lundras and Rokath were dead, then. Remel was relieved.

"Elf," came a barking voice, and Remel whirled around. It was Mercer. He wore a thunderous expression, and for a moment Remel's heart seemed to stop. Did he discover what they had done?

"I've found Karliah," he snarled, and Remel realized that his anger wasn't directed at her. She sagged again in relief. "She's at a place called Snow Veil Sanctum. I'm going to go confront her, and you're coming with me."

"What?" Rune blurted, just as Remel gasped out, "Why me?"

Mercer snapped his gaze to Rune, then back to Remel. "You're nimble and clever," he said shortly. "You know more than you give yourself credit for. We're leaving in half an hour. Meet me at the stables."

"I—" Remel began, but Mercer had already pushed past them and disappeared out the door.

Remel and Rune took one moment to look at each other, bemused and worried.

"This isn't a good idea," Rune said under his breath. "I wonder if Brynjolf agreed to it?"

"I can't say no to Mercer," Remel broke in. "I have to go pack. I want to see Dorei before I go—can you help me?"

Rune nodded and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, but Remel could see the shadow of doubt in his eyes. "Go pack your bags. I'll throw together some food for you and then go bring Dorei just outside the Flagon. Meet us there."

Remel didn't think she could convey her gratefulness with words, so she gave him another hug and then hurried to her chest.

She didn't have any idea what she might need, or where they were going, so she threw on her Guild jacket, leather pants, boots, and gloves, pulling her cowl up over her head. She tossed a few extra shirts and pairs of pants into her backpack, as well as the bedroll she'd gotten for her first mission, and then donned her wolfskin cloak. Her dagger went in a sheath at her waist; her bow she stuffed into her quiver and slung across her back. She swung over to her potions closet and swept all the potions off the shelf and into her bag, and then stopped by the kitchen to pick up the bag of food that Rune had packed and left for her. It was full and heavy; Remel smiled gratefully. Rune didn't want to take any chances, either.

Finally, she was ready. She pulled on her pack and hurried out of the Cistern.

Rather than going past the prying eyes of the thieves in the Flagon, she went out the back and around, back through the Ratway. When she reached the entry room, Rune and Dorei were there already. Rune paced back and forth; Dorei just watched him, eyes a little groggy. Remel felt a dash of guilt for drugging him, but quickly shook it off.

"Remel!" Dorei gasped, lurching to his feet. "What's going on?"

"I don't have much time to explain," she said, voice hushed. She pulled him into a quick embrace. "I have to go—the Guildmaster chose me for a mission. I hope we won't be gone long, but I can't know for sure. You should stay in the Warrens for now. It's the safest place, if you stay on Hefid's good side, and the city guards won't venture down there to look for you. When I get back, we can figure out what to do next."

"Wait—where are you going?" Dorei insisted. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, glancing at Rune. "But I promise I'll come back. We can work this out together."

"But—"

"Please, trust me," she implored, squeezing his arm. "Just—stay hidden, for now. I'll be back in a few days."

Before Dorei could argue further, Remel leaned onto her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek. She turned to Rune, and gave him a hug. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Of course."

Remel smiled, turned, and hurried out of the Ratway.

Mercer was waiting impatiently by the stables, beside a huge black charger that was already saddled. Remel blinked in surprise; she'd thought they'd be taking a carriage, not riding. She'd never ridden a horse before.

Apparently, Mercer had accounted for that possibility. "Give me your bag," he said, and fastened the pack on the saddle, next to his saddlebags. Then he wrapped his hands around Remel's waist, drawing a startled squeak from her lungs. Effortlessly, the Breton swung her up onto the horse; it was so large that her feet dangled far above the stirrups. Mercer pulled himself up in front of her, and Remel suddenly became very anxious about what to do with her hands.

She soon didn't have a choice, however, as Mercer kicked the horse into a swift canter, and Remel had to seize him around the middle or risk being flung off.

Mercer didn't seem to be in a mood to talk, and Remel was glad of it. It was nearly all she could do to hold on, unfamiliar as she was with the bounce and rhythm of the horse's gallop. They headed north, along the road towards Windhelm; Mercer pushed his horse hard, despite the sweat growing on its sides and the spittle flying from its mouth. This path had taken her almost two days by foot, but by the time the sun found the horizon, Mercer and Remel had come within sight of Windhelm.

He pulled up to the stables, and Remel slid off the horse, legs numb and stiff from the long ride.

"Take a quick break," Mercer said gruffly. "Stretch those legs. I need you in your best shape when we get there."

"Where is _there?_ " Remel said under her breath. Mercer had already headed into the stables, and he didn't hear her.

She followed his advice, though, and stretched, and did a few jumping jacks to warm herself in the icy evening air. By the time Mercer returned, leading a fresh horse now saddled with their belongings, she was warm and limber and ready to go. Mercer lifted her onto the horse and then followed, and off they went.

They headed west and crossed the river, following the road as it curved beneath the mountains and then turned sharply northeast. It was fully dark now, and despite her exercises and the swift pace of the horse, Remel was shivering, her teeth clattering together, by the time Mercer pulled off the road and slowed the horse to a trot.

"We're here," he said under his breath. "Have you ever been in a Nordic crypt before, little elf?"

"Um…no," Remel answered through her chattering teeth.

"Expect traps with every step," Mercer was saying. "Both from Karliah, and leftover from the builders of this place. If we're lucky, we can sneak through without waking anything—that's why I chose you, not some blundering fool like Thrynn." He swung down off the horse and lifted Remel down after him. He untied their packs, tossing Remel's at her. She took the opportunity to pull out a lump of cheese and take a bite, replenishing her energy for what was to come.

"What happens if we _do_ wake something?" she said around the mouthful of cheese.

Mercer laughed humorlessly. "Well, I hope you know how to use that little peashooter, then."

Remel gulped and tucked her cheese away, then pulled out her bow and strung it, and pulled the string back a few times, warming up the stiff muscles in her arms and shoulders.

"Ready?"

"I suppose I have to be," she responded, and followed Mercer down the stairs and into the crypt.

Following Mercer's lead, Remel placed her feet carefully with every step, scanning the darkness and swiveling her ears after every little sound. They slipped down a set of crumbling stairs and past two massive black boxes. "Sarcophagi," Mercer whispered. "Except what's inside might still wake."

Remel swallowed and silently knocked an arrow.

They kept going, keeping to the walls and treading silently around the sarcophagi, stepping over tripwires and sidling around puddles of oil spilt on the floor. Remel's heart was pounding in her chest, and it was all she could do to keep her breath steady and quiet as they dove deeper and deeper into the crypt.

"Wait," Remel whispered suddenly, lurching to a halt. Mercer stopped, glancing back at her.

"What is it?"

"Skeevers, up ahead," she breathed. "I can sense them. I think there's two."

"Just what we need," Mercer grumbled. "If they wake the Draugr, we'll have a real fight on our hands. Can you silence them from here?"

Remel gulped and stepped forward. "I can try," she whispered.

She slid forward against the wall, arrow knocked loosely in the bow, ready to be drawn. She wasn't sure how she knew the skeevers were there, but as she crept closer, she could hear their chittering and the clatter of their claws against the stone floor. She took a deep breath, and knelt, drawing the bow back to her ear.

It was dark in the crypt, but her mer blood lent her catlike vision. She narrowed her eyes, tracking the skeevers with her ears, waiting for them to show themselves—

 _There_! Remel exhaled sharply and released the arrow. It flew forward and slammed into the skeever with a dull _thunk._ The other skeever sprang forward, chittering angrily, but Remel had already knocked her second arrow and she released it calmly, catching the other skeever in the throat.

She waited a few moments, pricking her ears, but there were no more skeevers. Satisfied, she crept back to Mercer.

"It's done," she whispered, and Mercer nodded. Before he turned to continue, Remel thought she saw a flicker in his eyes—could it be that he was _impressed?_

 _No, probably not that,_ Remel reasoned to herself. _It must have been a trick of the light._

They kept going, Mercer choosing his footing carefully and Remel following in his footsteps. They came to a large iron door, and Mercer quickly picked the lock.

They slipped through the door, and Remel took a deep breath, placing her feet with the utmost care as they crept past three Draugr, sleeping on their stone slabs. The bow began to tremble in her hands, and she willed herself to still it. Mercer wielded a massive sword of some sort of golden-bronze metal, but she had never seen him use it. Although it was undeniable that he was strong, if the way he tossed her onto the horses had been any indication.

"Watch your step," Remel gasped, and yanked Mercer back by the arm as he went to step on a loaded plate.

He stumbled a little, and shook her off, eyes wide. He cleared his throat. "Thanks," he whispered, and Remel nodded.

They came to an iron door, and Mercer stopped, frowning. "This seems like a great place for an ambush," he mused. "But I can't see any way to get around…"

Remel peered at the door; she wasn't sure how Mercer could tell, but she wasn't about to doubt him. Casting around, she spotted an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and an idea sparked into existence.

"Mercer, I have an idea," she whispered, and quickly explained. He looked impressed once again, and nodded.

"Seems I chose my companion well," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "All right, then. Let's get this over with."

While Mercer carefully detached the lamp from the ceiling, Remel pulled one of the old torches from a sconce in the wall and re-wrapped it with fresh cloth, so it would burn. She pulled out a set of matches from her pack and carefully lit the torch, making as little noise as she could.

"Ready?" Mercer asked.

"Almost," Remel responded. She propped the torch up against the wall, then drew an arrow and lit it carefully on the torch. "Now," she hissed, and Mercer shoved open the door, flinging the oil lamp through. As soon as it hit, shattering on impact, two inhuman screeches echoed inside the chamber, and Remel caught a glimpse of two wretched, decayed figures stumbling out of their sarcophagi and into the pool of oil.

She released the arrow and it hissed into the room. The second its met the oil, the room went up in flame, and Remel had to stumble backwards to keep the heat off her face. The screeches escalated, horrid, twisted noises that grated her sensitive mer ears, until suddenly they stopped.

Remel wiped the sweat off her brow, glancing at Mercer. He was creeping forward, seeming unaffected by the heat of the flames, and Remel scrambled to her feet and followed him. He crept around the fire—rapidly dying, now that it had eaten up all its fuel—and scanned the room for additional enemies.

"It looks like we got them all," he said in a low voice. "Nice work, little elf."

At the back of the room was a huge stone structure, curving inward, with a series of scratches running along the base. Remel scooted toward it, curious. "Mercer, what is that?"

He glanced at it, and shrugged. "Just another old Nordic relic. It's writing in the dragon language, which I don't think many speak anymore, except maybe the Graybeards. Either way, it's useless to you and me."

"Hmm." Remel studied it for a moment more, then followed Mercer down the next passage.

A moment later, they came to a massive stone door, inlaid with a strangely-shaped hollow in the center surrounded by three concentric rings.

Mercer rose from his crouch and strode forward. "Of course," he sighed. "Karliah has probably taken the claw inside. Well, that's no matter—" he pulled a lockpick from his pocket and began fiddling with the hollow. "You've not seen one of these before, then?"

Remel shook her head, trailing behind him. "What is it?"

"A Nordic puzzle door. Very fancy, and supposedly impossible to pick. Unless…" he twisted his wrist, and with a shudder, the door began to slide downward. Mercer grinned, glancing at Remel. "Every lock has a weakness, little elf."

Remel nodded somberly. _Every lock has a weakness._

"Karliah must be close now," he said, and drew his sword. "Be ready for anything."

Remel nodded, knocking another arrow and tightening her grip. "I'm ready."


End file.
